


Twilight

by Nny11



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Not Beta Read, Sith/Inquisitor AU, So I had to Finally Post, Wouldn't let me live, ficlet style chapters for your easy reading pleasure, what the hell is chronological order?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-16 03:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 50
Words: 26,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8086108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nny11/pseuds/Nny11
Summary: The Apprentice was always loyal to a fault.Exploring an AU where Ahsoka stayed in the order, Barriss joined the resistance, and everything still went to hell. Luckily, everyone can have a second chance.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rex sees an old friend in passing.

For a moment he’s caught at the door, staring down into the pit. He can see her for just a moment as she was. Arms pinned down at her sides, the black tar like substance pulling her in deeper. She looks up at him with something like panic, something like trust in her burning yellow eyes. For a moment his Commander is looking at him, her Captain is looking back at her.

“Rex, help me!”

It’s as natural as breathing to reach for his ascension cable. It takes everything in him to stop. He can hear the other rebels yelling at him, for him, to stop him. The temple is collapsing. They need to leave. He can’t save her. His heart breaks. He shouldn’t save her.

“I’m sorry ‘Soka.”

His hand jerks, the motion to save her changed as he presses the panel and closes the door. Rex can feel something in him dying in the dark with her. He hears her scream his name in panic.

The moment passes and leaves only the sith they trapped, her malevolence ripping through the air leaving his breath to fog as he runs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka wants her chance.

Ahsoka kneels at her master’s feet, the blood dripping lazily from her brow. Her good eye focused on the stitching of his boot, she’s earned the right to at least look. She hadn’t failed her mission but the parameters had changed, and no amount of effort on her part could fix the past. Barriss lived, she lived and thrived and worked against them. Ahsoka had seen her as the woman had defended a pack of rebels and clones.

Hidden by her mask, her force signature twisted by the darkness, Barriss had not known who she was.

So here she was now, part in punishment for allowing the jedi to live and in part to beg permission. Please, let me try, please I could turn her if you just let me try. Ahsoka loves Barriss, wants to see her and be with her. Ahsoka hates Barriss, wants to see her broken in by the system and mangled.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barriss takes a chance, it goes about how it normally does.

Their blades locked and hissed, the flashing and flaring plasma throwing her opponent’s face in and out of shadows. Barriss couldn’t break the hold without exposing herself, she dug in as hard as she could and was pushed back inch by inch. Ahsoka had always been stronger than her, and now had the advantage of height. Cold stone dug into her shoulder blades and Barriss hissed as her arms shook.

Ahsoka tilted their blades, leaning forward and putting her neck over them. For a moment Barriss was tempted to take the killing strike, a clean death. Then lips were at her ear.

“You can’t do this forever,” Ahsoka whispered, her breath tickling and warm. “You shouldn’t have to.”

“Then stop, and let us go.” Barriss found herself whispering as well, keeping the conversation low, almost intimate. 

A high pitched trilling so soft that she’d nearly missed the sound. Words she’d never heard from her friend before. “I can’t. I have to try, I have to do this. He’ll know.”

Barriss can feel the pressure building, she pulls on the force to keep her guard up, she begs it for an answer as they stand together on the cusp of something. “Come with us.”

The pressure lessens, and Ahsoka leans back. Her face is riddled with desperation and incredulousness; a sliver of hope. And then she screams, twisting away to the side as Barriss is yanked with the force through a set of closing blast doors. She reaches out towards the pit of anger there, her own surprised shout stopped as the doors slam closed under her fist. Without thinking Barriss draws back to cut the door open before a hand on her arm stops her. Whipping around Barriss sees Kanan, his concern is clear.

She’d been so close, to what she wasn’t sure.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No rest for the wicked.

Ahsoka is used to being cut off from the force. A common enough punishment for Inquisitors who act nearly blind without it. A challenge for her, but not impossible. It keeps her creative, it keeps her thinking, and it gives her a chance to fail. Ahsoka often wishes she would fail more, it’s not something she’s willing to do on purpose. No. No, something that would happen, failure that would kill her. That would end this. She cannot leave him, he is everything that matters to her. Without him she would drown. 

The only thing she hates about being torn from the force is how it blocks him from her. 

She hates him.

She lets the idiot behind her continue to creep up, her body remains pliant and loose in her near meditative state. She has survived and will continue to survive, it’s what she does best. Even Palpatine had conceded that point as she’d vomited and spasmed after the lightning. She is good at surviving.

She hates being alone, that is why it’s still a punishment. Ripped away from the force she is alone.

The idiot reaches her and tries to strike, Ahsoka grabs his wrist and flips him over her shoulder. A quick strike as she locks his elbow breaks the arm, his lightsaber falls cutting into his torso before the blade disappears. She didn’t waste her time as he screamed, she puts her full weight onto his other arm her shoto ignited and hovering inches from his face. He stills, the anger and fear on his face swirling as he snarls at her.

She slowly dips it closer, his skin sizzling from the heat. He tries to kick at her and twist away. She pushes and he stops struggling, the blade buried in his face. Ahsoka holds it there for a moment, letting the flesh char and the hair burn away before pulling away completely.

The time to reflect and meditate is apparently over, this new batch of would be Inquisitors has obviously not been taught anything substantial. Ahsoka rises and stalks towards the door.

She’ll remind them why they should cower, and maybe, maybe someone will get lucky.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Barriss can just save one of them, just one, it would be worth everything to her.

“You can’t just go in there alone Ezra, it’s not safe.” Barriss tries to make him see this, to have him understand.

“You go in alone all the time!” Ezra is fifteen and so young. Too young for his eyes to flash like that, too young for all that he’s done.

She sighs, one hand cupping her chin as she regards him. Ezra has grown immensely since she first met him, his training and his master nurturing the raw talent into something bigger. The power he wields, the speed at which he’s grown, the hunger to always learn more. Barriss forces her eyes back to his, away from the walls that separate him from…

“Yes, I do. Do you know why?”

His brow furrows and he swings his hands back and forth lightly. Considering. The fight drains out of him as he sits picking at his vest. “You’re a Jedi.”

Barriss lets out an amused huff and sits with him, hands folded in her lap and back straight. Ezra flushes and sits up as much as he can, anything he can do to imitate.

“What would being a Jedi have to do with it?” She looks slightly to the side, head gently inclined towards him. An invitation to talk.

“Well, I mean, she’s a Sith right? So you probably need to be a Jedi to resist whatever...Sith do?” His embarrassment is clear on his face, even if his shields block the emotion in the force. Ezra has always been so difficult to read, his signature a curious blank, but he wore his emotions so openly that it rarely mattered.

Barriss is trapped between smiling at his sudden shyness and grimacing at the truth.

“I knew her, we were padawan learners together during the war.” Barriss doesn’t move even as he jerks.

“She was a padawan?” He whispers it roughly, trying to hold onto something that never existed.

“The same as me,” Barriss sighs and looks deep into his eyes, pushing the wariness and concern that weighs her down, “The same as you.”

“No. She’s not the same as us, I’m not,” Ezra fumbles over his words but his indignation at the supposed slight makes him try. “We’re the good guys!”

That old wound that never heals, infected and scabbing, dripping pus and blood. A broken order trying and failing and falling. Letta’s ghost practically spits from the shadows at her. Barriss cannot stand to look at him anymore, another padawan walking so willingly into the darkness.

She turns her face away, jaw tense before she can speak again. “So was she.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to StarlightInHerEyes22 for the suggestion of Aunt!Barriss, this was way too fun to write!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader watches her, but so does Skywalker.

They walk together steadily and silently their path marked by a line of gray uniformed men who’d leapt to stay out of their way. It’s not often that the common rank and file see Vader, he prefers to stay with the 501st, but sometimes he must travel with other groups simply to make deadlines. It’s becoming increasingly rare to see him working with an Inquisitor and the Imperial Navy doesn’t react well to force users. The Apprentice knows and he can feel the pride from her. She is always so proud when they work together, something in her still singing out to something in him. Something he both tries to crush and to nurture. It’s a weakness in him he cannot seem to be rid of, but her faithfulness deserves some sort of reward.

He can feel the force of her amusement and knows she must be smirking at every scared face that passes them; every man who jumps to the edges of the corridor. With her visor attached her smirk is all they can see.

Vader keeps his own face covered completely, the mask provides protection and the HUD gives him information, it would be a lie to say there are days he doesn’t need the life support built into it. But it’s mostly for the same reason she does. People fear the unknown and they fear the skeletal mask more than they would his human face. They don’t want someone like them, they want something mythical and someone invincible. Vader is their figure, their god in a way. 

Ducking into his temporary quarters, Vader smiles as she doesn’t hesitate to enter with him. The door closes and he removes his mask.

The air stings, struggling into his ruined lungs, but he appreciates a breath of ship air after a solid day in the suit. The freezing and burning, the ability to breath on his own.

She hesitates before removing her visor, her wariness advertising that she expects a trap.

He’s so proud of her in his own way. She is wary because she is intelligent enough to fear his wrath, and to know that if he wanted her dead there was nothing she could do. It warms him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Palpatine is, frankly, rather bored by Empire Day. So why not make the whole affair a bit more jovial?

Palpatine sits, carefully arranged and presented in his velvet robes. High above the common folk of Imperial Center, not so high that they cannot see him though. Oh no, this day is all about image and he must be seen for anything to make a difference. His disfigurements garnered sympathy years ago, now it’s a matter of ensuring no one thinks of him as an elderly invalid. Still, he sits relaxed and confident, smiling at the proceedings from behind his ray shielding.

Legions of troopers, officers, and government officials parade below him. Heads turning and saluting as they pass, fireworks nearly constantly exploding high into the sky. Banners, confetti, balloons. It’s disgusting in its own way, but necessary to appease the masses.

This is his Empire, these are the people whose hearts thrum with pride. Those that do not cower in fear. Both are needed to maintain his power, so both are catered to. His smile grows sharp at the twitch of his personal bodyguard.

The girl had been a thorn in his side in the Republic, setting him back years and somehow always managing to be in the wrong place at the right time. Now, she was one more who bent her knee to him. Always a pawn, but now at least, a useful one.

Below marching in front of the 501st is Vader, his own icy rage breathing life into Palpatine. He nods his head as Vader passes.

No longer the Hero With No Fear, but Vader is still an important piece of Imperial propaganda. A hero who helped to out and end the great Jedi threat, a military genius keeping their borders safe. Posters with Anakin had been torn down, just to be replaced with Vader’s gleaming mask. This year he had been ordered to march in the parade, another machine to show off to the public, another show of might for the Emperor.

The former apprentice is of no consequence beyond her use to keep Vader in line and to provide him with a mild diversion. Still, it never hurts to draw pleasure where one can these days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time I've tried to write Palpatine, a big thanks to hem for the suggestion!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You have compassion but by itself it is not enough. It is almost as if you carry around inside you some dead thing. Some heavy black cinder in your heart that burdens you; a ponderous anchor that tethers you to the past."  
> ― John Dolan, Everyone Burns

She watched as he made the cut, saw Anakin’s limbs fall around him. She’d tended to Padme, and only tried to follow once she’d stabilized the senator. Anakin slid backwards, down towards the lava and her feet moved of their own accord. 

“Master, help me!” Anakin called his mechanical hand reaching out.

And Obi-Wan just stood there his face crumpled in pain, only shouting as she ran past him. Down she when, the volcanic sand and shards sliding under her feet. She grabbed Anakin’s hand and pulled, the stumps where his legs had been already charred and smoking from the lava. She pulled him up calling on the force to help move him.

“Ahsoka,” he hissed in pain holding onto her with a bruising grip.

“Hang on Anakin, hang on,” She turned to look at Obi-Wan only to find him gone. A thermal wind threw stinging shards at her exposed back; her knees sinking into the blackness of the sand.

Anakin’s eyes were closed, tears of pain leaving tracts in the dust on his face. He was in so much pain, so much pain, she tried to pull some of it into her through their bond and nearly drowned. She closed it off and pulled him over her shoulders.

Anakin had a ship.

She sunk a little with every step, carrying her master to safety. What he’d done was unforgivable, but she couldn’t leave him to burn. She couldn’t.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanan has Chopper guard the prisoner, but Chopper may have heard him say "goad".

The droid had grumbled at her for the first hour, and then gleefully demonstrated his electro-prod. Its binary was slurred and half broken, but still understandable. A bit like talking to a very vicious drunk.

Ahsoka gave a few clicks and whistles back, her own binary far from complete. She had a way with droids.

Its body pulled in for a moment, she could hear the whirring as its visual processor zoomed in and out as if observing her fully. Then it rammed full tilt into her legs.

Ahsoka snarled and kicked it back into the wall, the droid’s arms extended clicking in fury. She managed to avoid getting shocked by the prod sometimes by millimeters. Twisting, kicking, and spitting insults in any language she can pronounce. The droid all but howls as the prod finally connects, pulling nothing more but a grunt from her. Nothing compares to the Emperor’s powers, nothing.

As suddenly as the brawl starts it ends.

The droid observes her again and then laughs. It makes motions as if it were going to attack before laughing again.

For a second Ahsoka feels a murderous rage over take her. She has been captured, humiliated, and now she is being mocked by a droid. A droid! If she wasn’t restrained it would be nothing more than an orange scrap heap! She snarls and growls, straining the cuffs.

The droid literally whoops and flexes its arms.

It’s so unexpected that Ahsoka instantly leans back, snorting in amusement. “You are a little murder bot aren't you?”

The droid laughs and spins its top in agreement before telling her its name.

“I doubt they call you Lord Chopper.”

He rumbles in shock that an inquisitor, such as herself, would think him a liar.

“Call me Lady Tano, my rightful title, and I’ll call you Lord Chopper.”

He would never bow to a villain.

“I’m the-I did not assault an unarmed prisoner and laugh at their pain!”

He giggles again.

The door opens to the smug Jedi Knight, he pats Chopper on the head affectionately. “I see you two have become best friends.”

Chopper spins his top, smacking the man in the knee before shocking him with the prod. He rolls over the toes of the Jedi’s boot with a grumble just to add insult to injury.

“Oh yes,” she says with a smile, “we have similar interests.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can't tell me that Chopper wouldn't take the opportunity to attack an Inquisitor, or that the Ghost crew wouldn't be counting on him to do it. Honestly why have an attack droid if you aren't willing to let him loose on occasion?


	10. Chapter 10

They sat in silence as Vader worked on his own prosthetics, Ahsoka assisting as needed holding a tool here or there. His hair was pulled back to keep it out of his eyes, his beard was scraggly and warped by the scars that ripped across his face. Both were graying, peppered with the wiry curling streaks. It was strange, so strange. His eyes had nearly permanent bruising around them causing his orange and red eyes to glow. Wrinkles on his forehead, at his eyes. Vader was not frail, but for the first time it struck her that he was older.

It was a silly thought. Of course he was older, they were all older. Something soft in her was still hurt though. 

His gaze snapped up into her own, his face set in stone. “You are staring my apprentice.”

She met his gaze for a moment before looking down to his exposed leg. “My apologies master, I was lost in thought.”

He gave a derisive snort before turning back to his work. “See that you do not become lost again.”

“Yes my master.”


	11. Chapter 11

She meditates because it’s all she can think to do, but the force is nearly silent. Her emotions refuse to leave they float instead around her. Suffocating her.

Ahsoka lives, but at what cost? To the lives of the galaxy, to her own life. Ahsoka lives but has been twisted beyond recognition.

Barriss breathes in deeply from the diaphragm, she exhales and imagines the ills leaving with that breath.

Ahsoka’s eyes had been a pale gold as she glared. Dark veins just beneath the surface of her skin, too sickly and pale. Everything twisting with her hatred as Barriss refused her.

Breath in, release it into the force. 

The force won’t take it, the force won’t let her give this up.

Ahsoka had been aggressive, her sabers a blur forcing her back step after step. Barriss should be dead. She survived only because she was spared.

What is she supposed to do about this? She scrubs at her face and stares into the candle's flame.


	12. Chapter 12

Ahsoka has always been good with children, and unlike her lesser companion, can use mind tricks when needed.

“Give me the child,” she puts force into the command, the grandmother hesitates caught between holding the child closer and obeying. “I will not harm him, give him to me.”

Seventh twitches, agitated at losing a chance to simply wreck the ship. Her blood lust is foolish, short sighted, and expected. It would be rewarded faster if she would simply have patience.

“No, please, he’s, he’s not like,” her eyes stare at the Inquisitor in fear, the trick nearly broken now.

Before anyone else can move Ahsoka has ignited her lightsaber and run the woman through, her free hand catching the now wailing child as his grandmother collapses. Her command is whispered to the smiling young woman, “Make sure there are no survivors.”

Ahsoka does not lift her gaze to watch the madness, she simply rocks the baby back and forth humming a tuneless song. A comfort given to stop his cries and nothing more. Slowly she walks back to their small ship, stepping over corpses and breathing in the smoke. His yellow blanket dropped at the door. “Sleep.”

And he does.


	13. Chapter 13

Despite the cold in the air and the sickness threatening to overtake her senses, the flesh under Barriss’s fingers is warm. It’s jolting. Ahsoka looks at her with amusement, the same face you might make watching a particularly stupid animal. Barriss flushes with embarrassment, she had been completely caught off guard by the feel of healthy tissue instead of something rotten and slimy. It’s a ridiculous thought, but somehow it’s still shocking to realize that this woman is both Sith and regular sentient. Barriss administers the shots and places a small plaster over the injection sites.

“Do I pass inspection?” Ahsoka is smirking full out, and flexing her bicep under Barriss’s hands.

“Physically healthy with signs of significant past trauma and damage, you are now fully vaccinated and I’ll run this blood sample for irregularities.” She turns to the machines and tries to ignore the stare burning into her back. “So yes, you pass medical inspection so far.”

There’s a small laugh and the chair creaks as Ahsoka shifts. “Not what I meant and you know it, glad you enjoyed yourself though.”

It’s surreal to her. This moment feels, in it’s own way, like it was twenty years ago. But with everything screaming danger at her through the force. Ahsoka is no longer an energetic, kind, and somewhat draining friend but the enemy. A killer. An Imperial. One wrong move...

“I don’t need the force to see whatever that was, want to share with the class Offee?”

Barriss straightens up and pulls on the force. She needs to get a grip if this is going to work, she can’t just forget herself like that. And she cannot trust the woman behind her.

“Blood work is normal, you midi-chlorian count has increased but that is unsurprising.” Barriss prepares a few more vials and sends the medical droid a signal to prep the bacta tank.

Another, shorter laugh . “Glad to see your sense of humor has survived intact.”

Barriss braces a hand against the wall and imagines her anger as heat being sucked into the hull, dissipated into space. Her sense of humor died with the order, with the younglings, with every defeat. Her jaw is clenched as she tries to pull the unraveling threads back towards herself, away from the fear and anger. Standing stiffly she moves towards the door, she needs to retreat, to meditate, to think without being watched.

“Or not.” Ahsoka’s voice trails behind as the doors lock.


	14. Chapter 14

Vader kneels over her prone form, the squealing breathing of his broken mask a counterpoint to the temple’s lightning. One hand hovers just above her shoulder, frozen before he touched her. The other holds his lightsaber hilt loosely, almost as if he’s forgotten it.

Barriss stands ready, her lightsaber ignited but grip light. Watching.

His face finally turns to meet her gaze, his blazing red eye burning into her. “What have you done?” His blade seems to ignite in slow motion as he stands, protectively over Ahsoka. “What have you done to her?”

Barriss lifts her blade wary of the impending strike. “What you could not.”

She believes it fully, the question only stands now of if she should have. It felt like the right thing to do. Perhaps in time it will be. The air shifts almost rippling and the pressure builds again.

It’s like being connected to the hive queen again, something oppressive and heavy and all too easy to allow. A whisper in her ear. The gravity of this planet feels like it increased tenfold, as if she had sunk deep into the black depths of an ocean. The burning that comes from freezing. Die Jedi, die Jedi, die Jedi. The force screams at her in pain or warning, it takes everything to duck aside and parry the blows this machine delivers. Barriss gives ground and slowly leads him away from Ahsoka.

She is tired, but she is not beaten anymore.


	15. Chapter 15

Her hands strike out, and she grabs his face, fingernails digging in and drawing blood as he screams and tries to jerk away. Her eyes are wide and unblinking, the normally pale golden orbs flecked through with red, a kaleidoscope, as she focuses on her prey. His body jerks, hands prying at her arm desperately trying to pull her off. Something blue and gold shimmers on him, a nebula of particles that twist up his thrashing form and up her arms. She lowers him slowly to the floor as his legs collapse. His body shrivels, his howling rasping out into gasps.

When her hand finally lifts away from his face, a nearly skeletal corpse remains. Lips peeled back from his teeth as if he was still screaming. The body creaks as it falls over, limbs frozen in place as he’d cowered.

The process seemed instantaneous as she’d watched, the force tells a different story. It doesn’t seem possible, it shouldn’t be possible. The force had cried out in agony, twisted and bent to be used as such a destructive tool. Pulling chaos to them and draining it from the universe. The hairs stand on the back of her neck. She’s seen this before.

Somehow Barriss had forgotten, she’d forgotten who this woman was. The yellow eyes turn to her, and Barriss turns away in horror.


	16. Chapter 16

The boy has been watching her, considering her and what she is. It’s natural; darkness seeks out darkness and this thread in him is tugging at her own. All his fear, his anger, his yearning to be better. His desire to learn what she can teach to aid his cause. A twisted desire to protect at any cost.

She’s fifteen and desperate to prove her worth to men who have already judged her. Men who already believed in her, who’s faith was tested and never failed. Men who wanted to protect her as much as she did them. She can’t lose them, not another one of them. It’s not fair. This isn’t what she thought it would be, not at all. She has to do better, somehow, somehow.

Something snaps and Ahsoka is sitting once more, the padawan watching her with something almost like compassion in his eyes. She cannot tolerate a second more of it.

“Speak.” Ahsoka makes it a point to put just a hair of suggestion into the command, she wants him to leave. She wants this to be finished.

The scars on his face pull as he frowns. His eyes flutter as he fights that feather light force suggestion as if it were a ton of duracrete. It’s the force equivalent of flailing his arms because a gnat flew into his face. The display is even to bring her a hint of amusement. He centers himself, physically shaking to rid himself of the sensation. But he breathes and speaks once the influence is gone.

“Why? Why did you…” he hesitates, too many questions tangled on his tongue.

Why did she side with the Emperor, why did she kill Jedi, why did she leave the order, why did she leave the Sith, why is she here. Why did she help at all?

“Old habits die hard.”

He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.” His tone is biting and dripping with sarcasm. The glare is piercing and all too knowing in its own way.

She likes him, and wishes she didn’t.


	17. Chapter 17

Ahsoka is trembling, wincing at every sound, all the colors. How long had she been left in the dark, cut off? It had felt hard to breath with all that darkness, hard to think. It’s equally difficult now, the light feels like it is burning her eyes out of her skull. The usually muted colors she can see blurring into a nauseating smear, brighter than she can swear she’s ever seen before. Her montrals ring and ache from tip to root, sounds echoing and warping. It leaves her feeling almost hungover, dizzy, nauseous, and fuzzy. Of course this is all experienced secondhand. Vader, there is no mistaking him, is dragging her forward by an elbow with his face turned forwards.

She focuses on the black of his mask and the reflections become a mirror for her to view the world from.

Vader is different than Anakin, different in almost all the ways that count. He is not the man she rescued. He is not the man her heart had bled for. But he is all that is left, and she learned very quickly to rely on whatever twisted nostalgia he held for her. Anakin’s face is hidden behind that mask, but it doesn’t really matter in the end. This isn’t him anymore.

 _What happened to him?_ Don’t think, no thoughts, not on your own, he knows, shh, shh. She knows better but she is weak and disoriented and sick. Her legs threaten to give out beneath her, so she concentrates on that instead. Easier, kinder, more comfortable.

His grip slides up to her armpit and tightens painfully. He pulls her up almost onto her toes, his stride growing. Punishment for thinking now apparently.

 _Kriff off_. Ahsoka thinks as loudly as she can, and then she thinks he might break her arm. The servos whir and the leather creaks with his bruising grip. Sometimes she forgets about the prosthetics, but he finds ways to remind her.

Ahsoka glares at his mask for a moment before trying to squint down the hallway, it seems like a never ending expanse of white and gray. Easier to ignore Vader for now. She doesn’t know what to think of Vader. She doesn’t know much of anything anymore. Maybe she’s been an idiot her whole life and never knew. Ahsoka pulls back as hard as she can on his grip even as she works to keep up.

She will not be carried by him, she can do this on her own.

A lone Trooper salutes as he passes, his armor is so painfully white, buffed into a gleaming beacon. _Shinies._ She hates this, she hates all of this. What has happened? Ahsoka has been essentially jerked around the galaxy, random trips, various ships and bases, training. Nothing good, nothing good at all. _Focus on right here, focus on right now._

The hallway is large, empty, and bare of any markings. Ahsoka has wandered hallways like this before, it never seems to make a difference where they are exactly. These hallways are all the same. The troopers are all the same. The never ending tang of fear, anger, and ambition permeates everywhere. Imprints left behind in the still bleeding and wounded force, from the Imperials with the whip to the slaves beaten down to build the Empire. If it weren’t for her imperial marked uniform, they’d assume she was a slave too.

Ahsoka isn’t too sure she isn’t one, that this particular uniform isn’t a way for them to identify her as such.

There’s a slight falter in Vader’s step and then the pace becomes smooth and regular, slightly slower to adjust better for her height. He is no longer dragging her along, his hand barely touching her. As if touching her is like touching fire. She can feel him pushing something to her over the bond, the one they refuse to sever. The one he has perhaps been told to leave intact. A yearning feeling, understand, please understand.

_Help me. I did, I am!_

She’s not sure who sent what over the bond, maybe both of them crying out the same message and answering in kind. In those rare moments that he opens his end it’s a mad dash for them both to scream at one another. Sometimes for one another. The messages are so garbled now that she can’t tell anything apart. She is gasping and forced to breath by a machine, her arm disappears into his and for a moment she has the impression that she is actually holding onto him. Guiding him somewhere.

It snaps shut just as it feels like her head will burst into flames, just as she smells ash and her limbs become heavy. Ahsoka stumbles as the whiplash hits. Icy darkness, hatred, and something like deep amusement. The Emperor is here. His master-their master.

They stop outside of a prison cell. Ahsoka’s shields come naturally then, the pain and the anger, the disgust all roiling together to give her the strength she’s lacking. The cell is not for her, why would he take her from a much more effective prison for this? No, no, this is something else, something different from the punishment. Something far worse.

It always is these days, she’s just learning to adjust.


	18. Chapter 18

Rex is watching her, and Ahsoka wonders if it’s out of nostalgia or wariness. His emotions unclear to her with the binders on. A fair trade she supposes. 

She kneels on the floor with her eyes closed, the semi-meditative state she falls into is more about being in this room in this moment than reaching into the force. He’d been guarding her and hadn’t left, hadn’t so much as shifted his weight after dismissing the others. Clones are strange to her after all these years, so few left, so withered before their time. Rex, as always, is different. He is fit, healthy, and well fed. He’s whole, not a Dark Trooper and not drooling as his mind falls apart; not like the brothers she’s seen. And she knows he’s observing her as much as she is observing him.

She Calls, echolocation painting a picture of him in her mind. One hand resting easily on his belt, the other on his blaster. His head tilted just slightly to the right. The hunch to his shoulders.

Ahsoka keeps her face blank, even as she clenches her fists behind her back. She doesn’t know where the cruel defiance came from when he left her to die in that pit, but she knows that he doesn’t have it in him to kill her again. Idiot. He’d had his chance, she had broken the rules to give him that chance and he’d spat in her face. Whatever that chance had truly been. Yet here he stands as if his blaster is worth anything against her.

Her captain would never had done that, her captain would never have been so stupid! 

Ahsoka takes a slow deep breath in. He may not have his chip anymore, but the clone before her is still being manipulated. She pictures her rage and the betrayal as a deep purple mist that hangs around her. She slowly exhales. The mist floats away from her and strangles a young man with blonde hair and honeyed eyes.

All that’s left is one old man, too cowardly to do what was necessary. Too cruel to do what was right. Too kind to take the chance.

His compassion feels like bile. It smells like sulfur and ash.


	19. Chapter 19

Ahsoka paces, agitated and ready for any reason to kill any incompetent storm troopers and rank alike. The scatter before her, leaving her the space they need to stay alive. After such a disastrous mission none of them are too keen on provoking the Inquisitor, regardless of if any of them are to blame. Vader is, it’s always back to Lord Vader. She snarls and lets the force crackle from her skin, like spitting snakes.

Vader has received some sort of inkling, some vision or sense. He has a child. A child somewhere in this galaxy,  _ it has to be hers it has to be _ , and the great Sith apprentice loses it. He was supposed to be working with her to root out these rebels. They were supposed to be biding their time, training and learning before taking the Emperor down! This was part of the plan!

The mere suggestion of a child and he abandoned his post, leaving her to complete a two man mission. Leaving her to fail and face Palpatine’s wrath on her own. After all she has given up for him, all she has done for him, he returns her loyalty with derision!

Abandoned.  Alone.

He’s closed off from her, their bond fragile and failing. Vader has chosen many things over Ahsoka, and she has always understood why. This is different. A child would be a hindrance to them. A child would set them back and leave them exposed. A child...his child…

Would leave her with nothing. No foothold or avenue to pursue. 

This child would replace her.

She won’t let it, if she finds that child she will kill it like all the rest of the Jedi. At least she knows her place! Ahsoka will take Vader’s rage over his dismissal. She’d rather be another scar on him than be forgotten again. How dare he, how dare he do this to her!


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barriss has some issues she really needs to work out

They are slowly running through saber stances with a pair of wooden swords the ghost crew had for Ezra’s training. Ahsoka is not allowed her lightsaber and in a way it leaves her feeling lighter than before, as if the crystal’s perversion had been weights draped over her chest. It’s a relief to move again, to train and fight. She’s never been one for sitting still when there are other options, and she’s pretty sure she’s never actively chosen to allow her own imprisonment. That is enough of a first for her to need something familiar, something comforting.

Barriss is working slowly and carefully, calling out the strikes and blocks number by number. Ahsoka wishes she could fight the lost knight or better yet teach the padawan instead of drill with an ex-Jedi. This is dull, a warm up instead of a battle. It’s more than she’s been allowed for weeks though. As she moves her blade with precision Ahsoka decides to be grateful that she’s allowed to fight at all.

She watches Barriss’s face, the stances long since drilled and memorized. It’s strange to think she’s spent more time with this woman now then when they were actually friends. Stranger to realize that in a way Ahsoka still cares for her. This one, this one who was so desperate to die a martyr in the war and now so desperate to live as a beacon of hope. To make something of the light. Ironically, darkness now hovers around Barriss Offee the way a stray does after being fed a few times. Ahsoka wonders why. Not that Barriss would tell her, they were never good enough friends for that sort of frank discussion. She tries to call to it anyways, curiosity overriding common sense. 

Blue eyes suddenly glare into hers, the anger rising suddenly, the disgust clear in a snarl.

Ahsoka feels pain in her legs before the world spins, something bashes into her stomach then jerks sharply up into her nose. She somehow ends up on her knees, and doesn’t try to rise. Ahsoka waits for another blow, maybe a blow to her head to kill her. Something to her throat to suffocate. It doesn’t come. Her face throbs and her breathing is ragged, but it doesn’t  **come** .

“Finish it.” She hisses, lifting her eyes only high enough to see worn gray boots. The wooden sword drops and the boots shuffle, unsure if they are coming or going. Ahsoka feels her own rage rising. “Finish it!”

“No. I’m sorry I lost control, let me just-” Her voice is full of guilt and pity, petty annoyance.

Ahsoka surges up to her and strangles the Jedi, pulling her off her feet. Green hands pull uselessly at her own, the boots kicking out at her ribs. There’s no fear in her eyes though, determination to live but no fear. No anger. Ahsoka drops her and watches her cough on the floor with a detached interest. It’s not often that she’s the one standing while someone chokes and kneels at her feet.

“We should have died in that tank.” Ahsoka doesn’t know where the thought comes from.

Barriss stands, hand gingerly touching her throat, wheezing, “All the same to you, I’m glad I didn’t.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The future is clouded, the present is monstrous, and the past poorly remembered. Still, a girl can dream.

Sometimes as she rushes headlong into a shock and awe campaign, Ahsoka forgets where she is. When she is. Her blades whirring and flashing, the sickly sweet feeling of death and fear, and the gleaming white trooper armor. It’s important to see that white armor. The storm troopers, Ahsoka sneers at the thought of them, children who want to play dress up. The Empire will not waste its money on clones when it could be advancing its overall technology, and it gives the average citizen a way to serve with pride for their Emperor. It’s not the same, the training rarely longer than a few years for average troops, all of them beaten and ground down into expendable numbers.

She doesn’t remember their names, she can hardly keep their designations in mind.

Weak and scared, a pale imitation. Ahsoka wishes the clones didn’t age so rapidly, what she would do  to have a squad of Kaminoan clones again. Her precious, beautiful white shells. Able to follow any order, able to complete any mission. When she’d first taken charge of storm troopers she had ended up killing half the squad herself. They fired their blasters, sure, but they didn’t hit many of their targets. Insurgents and terrorists, packed into a tight space. Impossible to miss as often as these inferior soldiers had.

Ahsoka had listened, and waited, she had learned patience. Her troops telling the terrified new ones how to fire and not hit. How the blaster count would be taken but how he wouldn’t always have to kill. As if compassion had anything to do with it, as if they were allowed to have a choice in the matter. They didn’t get a second campaign, some didn’t even get a first. 

Examples. She’d cut them down one by one, dreaming of a loyal and obedient clone squad.

But at least on the field she could pretend for a fleeting moment, ignore the differences and let it be. At least for a moment. So she let the battles bleed together and waits for her next assignment.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first step is always the hardest, or at least that's what they say.

Ahsoka paced, unable to hide or calm her frayed nerves. She wasn’t the one whose limbs were severed. She wasn’t the one who legs had, even if just for a moment, caught fire. Her lungs were healthy and not riddled with obsidian shards and ash. But she could still feel the echo of it through the training bond. It wasn’t that the pain was so disturbing to her, it was heartbreaking, but Anakin had the sense of mind to cut her off. She couldn’t help him carry that burden the way she’d tried to on Mustafar. But then it had been too much, too raw, half physical and half mental.

She plucked at her lower lip, one arm crossed tightly over her chest, and glanced towards the large windows looking into what was laughably called the surgery area. It looked like a droid assembly plant. It looked like hell. Worst of all was the man standing thoughtfully in front of those windows. One hand stroked at his chin thoughtfully, the other arm crossed against his chest.

Ahsoka violently shook her arms as if ridding herself of a phantom.

The true traitor. The Sith Lord.

He softly chuckled, his eyes darting to meet hers in the glass. Yellow, pale, sickly, his mouth full of rotten teeth.

She snarled and looked past his warped image, to watch Anakin again. Her master twisted and screamed as the droids worked, again she tried to pull something from their bond but couldn’t. As if he wanted the pain.

“Child, I must thank you for your timely intervention.” Palpatine’s voice seemed deeper and rougher than before. “I fear what would have become my apprentice if you had not saved him from the flames. A shame, but not unexpected that Kenobi would leave him to burn. He never appreciated what he had.”

Ahsoka forced herself to watch the operation, tried to fight down all the anger at what he was implying about Master Obi-Wan. Tried to keep the anger at both him and Anakin at bay over the title “apprentice”. She couldn’t deny that one. She had seen the aftermath of her master turning, each blade stroke that would cement his place at Palpatine’s side. She would give anything to deny that one accusation. 

“Do not deny your anger, indeed it may serve you well in the Empire.” His smile was condescending, tone light.

Ahsoka seethed before finally looking at him completely. “What makes you think I’d join your traitorous empire?”

He laughed softly. “Have you not already? You have saved Lord Vader, gave him back to me, you stand here and do not strike me down. You, my dear, are free to leave right now but you chose to stay.”

“That doesn’t mean anything, I’m not here for you!” Her fists clenched around her saber hilts. She could strike him down, she could end this here. What would happen to Anakin if she succeeded? What would happen if she failed? He needed to be healed first.

“Of course not, but you will find your compassion to take you only so far. What happens when Vader once more bends his knee to me, hm? He will protect me with his life.”

It was disgusting the way the force rang true with him, the way it had refused to sing for the Jedi. The way it had lead them along into their own destruction, for what? Trying to save the galaxy? Protecting the innocent? Ahsoka ground her teeth together, glanced back into the “operating room”, and without thinking about it drew her blades.

She could smell the burning, and tasted something earthy as something screeched. It was everything she could do to keep her feet, her muscles fighting her, the pain so white hot that Ahsoka was sure she’d simply been engulfed by a supernova. An eternity later and it paused, she gasped and choked somehow on one knee before it hit again. This time she dropped like a stone. She trashed clawing at her chest and face. When it stopped she gagged on drool and blood, coughing directly into the floor. Her forehead now resting on its warm surface, she remained still on elbows and knees. It felt like lifting a tank to simply lift her head and glare up at Palpatine.

“Yes, yes, very good! Your anger will give you power young one, and your ability to survive is particularly surprising. Now I have helped you to kneel, see that you do not need my assistance again.” His smile was gone, his voice hard as stone as he turned his back to her to watch Anakin again.

Ahsoka read between the lines and let her energy return by staying down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhm, whoops on skipping yesterday folks! Extra not re-read even for me, hope you enjoy(?) regardless. Chapter suggested by hem.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hera doesn't know if she's trying to build this one up, or just waiting to punch her in the face.

Hera had been watching her quietly most of the trip, her observations done is short snippets that left Ahsoka on edge. Hera Syndulla, another ghost (appropriate she thinks). Ahsoka has to banish the memory of a young girl who had been thrilled to get a peek inside her fighter’s cockpit. A woman now and a damned fine pilot, every ship she flew seemed like a natural extension. 

Ahsoka let a small smile bloom on her face. Hera loved flying, the way her body relaxed and her force signature calmed. It must be a pilot thing, because it was the same for...the smile dies slowly.

No use wishing for the past really.

“I never got to thank you.” Hera’s voice was almost startling, they’d been flying in relative quiet for several hours. But it had come firm and confident, the accent gone completely.

“For what?” Ahsoka watches quietly, helping to navigate them through the defenses and asteroids.

“Ryloth mostly, and more recently not giving me a reason to throw you out the airlock.” Hera’s smirk makes Ahsoka’s lips twitch in kind. It’s not the first joke she’s heard, but it’s been awhile since the jokes at her expense weren’t designed to cut completely to the bone. She feels the moment dragging out before thinking up something to say.

“Well you know, sometimes I just need to hit the baseline for a half decent person.” Ahsoka spoke mostly to the view port, only glancing over at the end. It’s been a long time. It’s not witty and biting the way her humor used to jump. But it’s more than her disdain or disgust. She’s trying.

Hera has become tense, hands gripping the yoke harder than needed. That relaxed feeling gone, like a spool spun too tight.

Ahsoka’s own smirk fades and her attention is focused once more on the controls.

“Shame you couldn’t keep it up in the meantime, you meant a lot to me.” Her voice was clipped and soft.

She knew, she remembered. Heavily accented pointing and naming controls, patting at her astromech, tugging at her own stubby green lekku. “Most Jedi do not look like us, you are close though!” She’d laughed and tugged at the end of her own striped one.

Something in her drops, coiling in her chest and filling her throat. It takes a few minutes to recognize the feeling, something so long gone she’d forgotten she could. The moment to respond has long passed and the silence stretched thin. Ahsoka works her jaw before finally drawing a breath in.

“I’m good at that.” It was a whispered confession, an apology, an explanation. One that drew attention, one that made her sink back into her seat and wish she could simply stop existing. 

Hera didn’t respond.

It was a very long flight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hera is beautiful, wonderful, and didn't deserve to have a conflicted semi-Sith living on her ship who is all mopey all the time. I also don't know how to write Hera.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin can't make it as Vader like this, not like this. That's not true. This might just make Vader.

The words stuck in his throat, clawing into him as he swallowed them down. He froze, panting before the suit forced him to breath slowly. Damaged lungs, damaged body, damaged mind, damaged heart. There was the bond between them; brittle and faltering. Damaged. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening to him. She was the only one who had stayed with him, who understood what needed to be done. She was his, she was his! She was his loyal apprentice.

The words still stuck to his tongue, his jaw glued shut against them.

It had hurt, it had hurt to break her down but she had to see the truth, she had to understand the betrayal of the Jedi. Of the Senate. Of the Republic. She hadn’t wanted to, but he made her see. No, no he hadn’t. That’s what she said wasn’t it? She had stayed with him not out of loyalty to the Emperor or bringing peace to the galaxy. She had stayed for him. She had given him that trust and her love and he had let them erode away until they no longer existed. She had loved him.

The words faltered, his breath nearly stuttering as they finally faded.  _ Let me come with you. _ Vader clawed at his mask.

He didn’t care what the others saw, he didn’t care at all. But her, she, force Ahsoka, she had to see. She had to understand. Just one more time, just understand one more time. He grabbed their bond and tried to suffuse it with something, anything that would make her see. She had to see. He needed her, she couldn’t just leave him. She couldn’t leave him like this.

“Ahsoka.” He didn’t shout, the mask still adjusting his voice.

The group froze, Ahsoka staring at him with wide eyes. A name he so rarely used aloud. He cried out into the bond.

“Ahsoka,” The mask was lifting now, the hiss of the seals breaking. His own ragged breathing, his sickly pale skin, hair plastered by sweat as he hurled the mask away.

Their eyes locked and it felt like the first time he had seen her in years.

“Anakin?” Her voice was so soft and so small.

“Ahsoka,” he pleaded with just her name. Stumbling forward a few steps.

She couldn’t leave, she couldn’t leave him. He couldn’t do this alone! He couldn’t live alone! This wasn’t part of the plan!

“Anakin, please, you can come with me, we can do this together.” She believed it, her conviction and her hope and her love slammed into his shell of a body. The words had found a way.

A whisper in the force,  _ father please. _

He stared at her, fighting everything in him. His child, this girl would keep him from his child. His gloved fingers tangled in his hair as he gasped. He would surely die without her, he would kill her is she stopped him and he would die without her.

“I can’t, not yet, not yet, I need, Ahsoka, I need to finish this! Don’t you see? I have to do this! We have to, you swore it to me!” His voice was weak and his whole face burned with exposure.

“And I can’t stay! Not anymore, I can’t do this anymore!” Ahsoka screamed at him, suddenly tearing at the black armor on her chest and hurling it away. She flung her lightsabers next, howling as if it had wounded her to touch them, “I can’t, Anakin, I can’t! I won’t!”

She was panicking, she was afraid. She was beautiful and free. His daughter, he was so proud of her.

The words stuck in his teeth and clenched jaw and his vision tunneled down. She has refused him, after all he had done for her, she has refused him. This is what his leniency had brought; betrayal. Head bowed from the weight of the word, he pulled his mask back. He would not let her see, never again. She lost the privilege, she’d lost everything with this defiance.

Vader let the rage wash over him. “Then you will die.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Princess Leia Organa will not punch an Inquisitor in the throat, but it certainly is a nice fantasy.

Padme was soft smiles and hard eyes. She was somehow forgotten when it came to battles, unless they were on the senate floor. She was hidden blasters and a mischievous air, gambling with her own life to avoid using another. Ahsoka has to lock the memories away, nights at the senatorial apartment talking and laughing. The warm hugs and small food packs that were slipped to her to make up for Republic rations. That smile turned towards her,  _ I’m so proud of you _ .

Princess Leia Organa is similar, so strikingly similar in a way that Ahsoka can’t help but make the comparison. Young women, leading rebellions, spitting fire, shooting blasters, and coming back for more. But they are not the same, no, no, no, not the same. Where Padme exuded warmth that could burst into flame if needed, Organa is a tower of swirling fire. She is sharp edges and tough love, sarcastic, pragmatic, and thoroughly unimpressed with everyone she meets. Or maybe she just isn’t afraid? Either way it has oddly endeared her to the senators and practically guaranteed her the seat next. There’s someone who will get things done.

Indeed, just not for the Empire. The Emperor knows that the Organa’s are part of the rebellion, but they need better proof and he does so enjoy watching his enemies walk into his traps.

The girl glares at her,  _ glares at her _ , and Ahsoka wants to laugh almost as much as she wants to rip her eyes out. Organa’s royal regalia is gathered up brusquely, the way any commoner might bunch up an old skirt, and she glares from beneath her elaborate hair. Her rosy apple cheeks flushing with anger as she stomps to her father’s door. Ahsoka stays, leaning against the wall just a few feet away and watches as the girl’s aides rush by. Their fear slithers into her and Ahsoka relishes the sensation as it mingles with this girl’s hatred. They ground her again.

“Inquisitor.” Organa’s voice is clear, if clipped.

It’s a dismissal if Ahsoka has ever heard one.

“I need to speak with your father child, where is the Senator?” Her voice modulator takes away most of the inflection, leaving it flat and cold. The Princess doesn’t scowl but her disdain is obvious through the slow tilt of her head.

“Perhaps he is fulfilling his duty to the Empire, as should we all.” There’s a sneer and a challenge in the response. A cover up of some sort. Oh yes, this little girl is destined to take over for her father in the Senate and the Rebellion. Ahsoka can’t wait.

Ahsoka bows mockingly. “Thank you your grace, that’s all I needed to know.”

The girl’s rage is smothered by icy water as she walks away. To her credit she does not call out, or hurry any in response. Controlled chaos.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a plan for her, yes, the force has a plan. She just needed to take the first step, the first true step.

Barriss gasped as the pain suddenly began to retreat, a feeling of deepness and warm comfort overtaking the pain in her chest. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked around desperately as the wound began to seal under her clasped hands. There was only one person here, one person who could possibly have, but she didn’t know how?

Regardless, Ahsoka’s hands were outstretched, those blue and yellow orbs swirling around her arms, her hands, feeding into Barriss. 

For her part, Barriss could only feel relief for a moment before she realized what this was. She watched Ahsoka’s lips chap and crack, as blood began to drip from her nose and her breath became a gasp. It had never occurred to Barriss to ask after this thing, this terrible thing. The deep, warm comfort became smothering. She reached forward grabbing onto the shaking orange hands.

“Stop, Ahsoka, you need to stop, I’m healed enough for now.” Barriss spoke firmly, keeping the panic from her voice, refusing to let it pour from her in waves. Her healing voice, her commanding voice.

Ahsoka’s eyes opened and Barriss felt the universe drop away. Deep blue eyes, like falling into an ocean. The trembling grew as Barriss slid her hands up Ahsoka’s arms, drew her into an embrace. The healing sputtered and half stalled. Barriss pressed their foreheads together. She stared, unabashed, at a sight she thought gone forever. She moved her arms, curling them under the still outstretched arms. “I’m ok, Ahsoka I’m ok.”

Watery blue eyes bled together, indistinct.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's what being sick does to my posting schedule. Three today and hopefully two more tomorrow to get me back on track.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virga: Precipitation that falls from a cloud but evaporates or sublimates before reaching the ground and removes heat from the air due to the high heat of vaporization of water. Precipitation falling into these cooling down drafts may eventually reach the ground.

Beside him in the LAAT/i she had watched fire fall from the sky, burning the land into a ragged patchwork of black and brown. The sound was incredible, almost unbearable, her montrals aching and itching under the onslaught. Below she felt more than saw the lights winking out one by one, each life that fell. The sentients, flora, fauna. All of it living force, simply vanishing as the fire came raining down. Dying in hordes.

She’d let her shields fall, let herself feel this moment and the pain of it. To ignore it seemed worse than to survive under the onslaught. Obi-Wan had once reprimanded her for allowing the force to simply flow through her like this, during a battle it seemed right. When would they have peace?

Her master spoke so softly to her. “It will come like the rains.”

She’d thought, at the time, that it was a comforting thing. An inevitable thing. But on Tatooine the rains fell and burned up in the atmosphere, never touching down. Never giving relief.

Ahsoka couldn’t live like that, not with that kind of hopelessness. True or not, she had to cling to her hope for peace. For a time after. She would close her eyes in meditation and imaging that burning world, visualize the plants growing back up through the ash. The animals returning. The people rebuilding. Like a new star cluster growing and expanding, full of brilliant colors. 

The light had to come back someday, rushing in to fill spaces in between.


	28. Chapter 28

Rex scrubs at his face and hunches over at the table, a mug of caf in one hand and his datapad at the other. It’s all a mess, not that it ever wasn’t, he’s decided that democracy is just that way, but he can swear there was a time when it at least made some sense. War is never clean cut but this little rebellion continues to amaze him with every corner they can cut. He doesn’t even know where to start, training average men, women, and children to fight with blaster half charged and no real armor to speak of. Ships that have to make do with half repairs. Medical bays primarily run by droids, if they are lucky a lone bacta tank to serve an entire cell. He sips miserably from his cold drink. Rations are terrible and rarely suited to the task, spoiling easily and being converted to some other use. He’s pretty sure the caf is just some sort of spoiled ration bar, tastes about right.

A small smile crosses his face. It all adds up to a nearly homey feeling for him. He missed this.

“Can’t imagine what’s so funny in that paperwork.” The voice startles him, and Rex’s head snaps up. Ahsoka stands, dressed in some worker jumpsuit with a pair of shining force suppressing restraints. She slides into the bench on the other side of the table, her tray barely making a sound. “More like a necessary evil.”

He purposefully clenches every muscles in his legs and releases the tension slowly as he considers her. It’s the only physical reaction he’ll allow himself, even if he mentally berates himself. He’d forgotten how quietly Jedi move. Ex-Jedi. He surveys her quietly.

For her part, Ahsoka is concentrating on her food. Eating slowly but steadily, her gaze not even flicking up. Without the armor she seems too thin to him. Her hands have become long and tapered, and look like one strong stomp would snap the bones. Her sleeves are rolled up showing a host of scars on her forearms, her wrist bones popping out prominently. The jumpsuit itself falls around her, obviously the wrong size if not for her sheer height. For a moment he remembers sitting with her, she was still new to the legion and had come back after a rough mission. He had been mortified to discover how much weight she’d lost thanks to the activity and reduced rations. Her ribs had practically showing and her arms so thin he’d worried they’d snap like twigs.  _ I have the double blessing of force user and togruta, can we continue this in the mess? _

Well he supposed both of those were still technically true.

Still it sent him reeling in a way, caught between the present and the past; it was like having double vision. Just one version moving a hair behind the other. A warm smile and a stony frown just milliseconds behind. It blurred the lines every time he saw her. Made it difficult to remember who was sitting across from him.

Barriss, for all her posturing, was wary of this woman. Rex was as well. He’d seen what she could do, those red blades slicing through the rebels with ease. She’d managed to destroy a solid metal door with her mind. He’d seen her do amazing feats as a commander in the GAR, but as an Inquisitor it had almost seemed like her powers were unlimited.

Being hunted by her had helped him understand why so many people didn’t trust the Jedi at all. That kind of power…

Ahsoka was staring at him, head tilted as if listening to a comm. Rex suddenly slammed down on his own thoughts, he’d fallen out of practice from shielding, hadn’t needed it for decades, but the barriers rose up. They were shaky and weak and he was uncomfortably aware that she could tear through them if she wanted to. Her impassive face twitched, and she smiled down at the table.

Standing up, empty tray in hand she looked down at him. “Good talk Rex.”

“Sir.”


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka is trying, trying her very best.

Somehow Ahsoka had become even less trusted now that she was trying to heal, as if looking like them made her even more alien. It took everything in her not to simply pull the darkness back in just to remind them why they should truly be afraid. Spider-roaches that scuttled away as the light reached them. As if it would harm them, the light was theirs, the force was with them.

And it was slowly burning its way through her.

She was weak, tired, shaken, and constantly sick. Walking too far too fast would send her reeling into the wall, forced to wait as the dizziness and nausea passed. She was cold, shivering so badly that dressing was a struggle. Meditation fled her. Distractions skipped past her. Ahsoka began to stay in her quarters just to avoid it all. For the first time the nightmares were welcome. They were familiar as everything she’d relied on was ripped away, all the comforts she took stripped bare. It was a shame that sleep so rarely visited as she lay on the cot.

So instead she was left with the light.

It was a pale winter sunlight, reflecting back a thousands times and bringing no relief.

It felt like fire, it smelled like rain, tasted like medicine and metal.

She refused to return to the empty space between the stars, she refused to let the soothing dimness of evening in. Twisting away from even the lightest shadow. Hindering her own progress by denying it. Burning herself over and over and over and over.

It was easier to do, pain was far more familiar than comfort.


	30. Chapter 30

“Ahsoka!”

She allowed a small snarl to curl on her face, the anger to pulse through. “I’m just saying if the heat death of the galaxy would like to speed up it would certainly help us now.”

“Can she say things like that?” Zeb asked, tried to be quite, failed miserably.

“Of course I can, watch, we are screwed. End of sentence. End of us. Probably end of the line. Trust me here, heat death is a much nicer way to go. Or being dead center by a nuclear bomb. Disintegration probably isn’t too bad.”

“Please don’t do this right now.” Barriss rubbed at the bridge of her nose, as if Ahsoka was not actually suggesting something more reasonable.

It was of course easier to pretend that wasn’t the case. “What you’d rather be caught in fallout? Tch, and you’re supposed to be a healer.”

“A little optimism never hurt anyone.” Hera cut in, with a glare.

Ahsoka held her stare, her voice tight. “Yes it has.”

There was a very drawn out pause, and she struggled to not just snap right there. It was hard when the other option was to break. Her jaw hurt from clenching it, teeth grinding as she pulled in breath after breath.

“I’m sure there’s something we can do, besides wish for the universe to kill everything.” It was a bad day when Ezra was the hopeful one.

Of course that’s all this Rebellion seemed to have these days.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka partakes in an old clone tradition with a little help from Sabine.

Sabine has been painstakingly prepping her armor for a new coat of paint, slowly sanding each piece and putting a primer down. The few that have already dried, shin guards, shoulder pads, small things are now in her hands being worked on. She sits cross legged on the floor as she mocked out her new ideas, a few stencils within grabbing distance. Spray and liquid paint, brushes and jars of water, towels to wipe them on.

The scene was so familiar that it hurt. How many brothers had she seen go through this same ritual. Sanding, tracing, painting. But with them it was a jostling group, veterans giving advice on brush types, designs, and how to work the paint best. Shinies had to paint some of their armor, it was a right of passage. But often there was an artist on hand, every battalion had at least one clone who had perfected their art, who could be “hired” to complete further designs and add pieces on. They were paid in dessert, leave, and favors. All of the 501st had turned to clone trooper Tipper for their additions, she was simply the best the legion had. Her long hair often tied up in a few messy buns, a rainbow of colors. The small stud in one eyebrow an ever changing selection of fake gems. With a little squint it’s easy to imagine Tipper is sitting there, manipulating the brushes and asking for the radio to be turned up again.

Ahsoka supposes that would make her the shiny. Her fingers flex on her kit, packed away to make it easier to carry. In a way that makes perfect sense she is starting over afterall.

Two honey brown eyes turn to look up at her, her presence in the force suddenly tense. Ahsoka swallows before stepping into the girl’s room. She lifts the bag slightly. “Can you help me?”

Stupid question Tano, stupid everything. This is a bad idea. She wants to turn around and leave. Instead she pulls out one of her gauntlets. Black, all of her armor is painted black. The shoulder were the cog used to be had been spray painted over almost immediately by this young Mando. Palpatine had chosen that color, black for his force users. They all wore black for him. As a reminder.

“I don’t think it’s really my color anymore.” Ahsoka says it as casually as she can, shrugging even as she has to pull on the force to keep her hands steady.

Sabine watches her for a moment, and Ahsoka swears she can feel the smallest presence in the force. A minnow swimming just below the surface. Then the girl smiles. “I’m seeing sparkles, maybe polka dots?”

And just like that some tension Ahsoka had held just...releases as she chuckles at the thought. Sabine stares for a second, as if she’s never heard someone laugh, and then grins widely.

“No, not just yet. I used to wear warm colors, burnt red and gold.” Ahsoka rubs her thumb over the armor. “I want these to be white, with a blue stripe. I don’t know about the rest.”

“Ok, so white and blue, like the color coordination. Let’s see what we can make of it. Sandpaper is over there.” She jerks her chin at the corner before going back to her own design.

Ahsoka places her bag down carefully next to the area Sabine has pointed out and grabs the handheld device with a small frown. “Uhm…”

There's a pause and a snort, “You’ve never used one before?”

Ahsoka shrugs as she looks it over and mumbles, “‘m shiny.”

“Ha, you should’ve seen that sucker brand new if you wanted shiny.” But Sabine is standing anyways, moving over to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Protect all clones yo, they are beautiful precious beings. Go OC Tipper, you go glen coco.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mortis never truly leaves, eternal. The events happened, are happening, will happen.
> 
> And Ahsoka was not chosen by the Daughter. She was chosen by the Son.

Sometimes she can feel it inside of her, not the light perhaps but its afterimage. The green and orange phosphenes left from rubbing your eyes. It's not normal, this thing that lives inside her. Because it’s not the light, no, that she still sees from behind a sheet of glass, she can’t reach it even if she pounds on the thin pane; she can’t reach that light. No, not that, no. Something else. Her. To name something is to give it power, and Ahsoka will not name  **her** .

But it’s still ironic to think about it at times. After all, the light did not choose her on that strange force world, the darkness did. The dark chose her, demanded her, forced her, took her in every way it could. (For years she’d thought in every way but the one that counted, she’d not gone willingly after all. That pride had been pulled out piece by piece, sliver by sliver, until she’d had nothing else to hold in its place besides the fact that darkness had at least chosen her.)

Yet all these years later, all this time, and she-it is what remains. Trapped in a way. Ahsoka had tucked the light away, she’d first just tried to push it away to make it stop, to make it STOP. Foolish. She had carved trenches pushing it down and away, afraid to lose it and afraid to use it. Unwilling to allow herself to die.

It thrummed uncomfortably in her chest. An aching warmth spreading from the core of her being.

_ You shunned me for your favored children, you shunned me and it wanted me! You left me and it asked only for more of me. Why won’t you stop? Why won’t you let me be? _ The questions were never answered.

A lone old man was protected by his one daughter, the young woman physically wrapping around him. A mess of spikes and clashing colors that trembled on the floor. It was like the universe was shaking apart. For them it was, she was here for him after all.

_ Why now? _

The daughter’s chin rested on top of his head, arms wrapped tightly around him. The defiance gone, the desperation setting in. She shed tears as she begged. The fear that Ahsoka had come to enjoy was now smothering her. It was overbearing and cloying and she wanted it to stop.

_ Why this? _

Ahsoka paused, gripping the hilt of her saber as if it was a life line.

“Please, my father, he’s not a Jedi, he’s not I swear, please!”

She reached for the feeling that had come when the blood of that man, that thing, had raced through her own veins like a poison. The pain that came from being trapped between life and death as he’d possessed her body years ago. She had been dead the moment she’d collapsed in the prison. She’d been dead since.

The thing inside her cried out, this was wrong. She was never supposed to be this. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Ahsoka slowly knelt down next to their flinching forms, fighting off the thing inside. Face hidden by the visor, modulator attached. Smoke and mirrors, lights and lights and light. The saber lit with a snap hiss and two pained gasps.

Ahsoka waited a moment, waited for the woman to die down again. And she whispered to it,  _ you shouldn’t have brought me back, you should have left me there. I wasn’t worth it. _

  
Then the apprentice stood, solid once more.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The irony of her conviction for the Rebellion is not lost on Barriss, not after what she's done.
> 
> She's so tired.

It wasn’t that she was innocent, it was that she hadn’t been caught. With so many away from the temple, and Barriss having been given time off from the war front to prepare for her trials, she had been one of the very few Jedi there. One of even fewer who could be trusted to complete the task. Dependable, thorough, thoughtful Barriss was assigned to the bombing of the temple. She covered and she lied, and she observed. Letta was not implicated, as Barriss was able to testify that there were no nano droids at their apartment. It all went according to plan.

Almost all.

The Jedi did not change, the Order secure in themselves. The Republic forgot within days what had happened, some never even made aware. Nothing changed. They didn’t see, they weren’t afraid, it wasn’t working.

So Barriss began a more desperate iteration, she began ingesting the droids as well. She carefully planned a second bombing, one to shake the order to its core.

She was going to be knighted in front of the council after all. She could cut off the head of this beast, suddenly and unexpectedly. But Letta, free and scared, it was Letta who made it impossible. That hypocritical woman who had said she’d understood, suddenly wasn’t sure. And that fear turned her against Barriss. Something had to be done, and she always did what had to be done, her message could not be drowned out now.

It had been easier than Barriss expected. Used to fighting endless waves of droids or at least highly trained soldiers, one civilian with a smoking habit was simple. Barriss had visualized the nerves inside the spinal column, she’d applied pressure just so. Letta had only had time to snarl defiance before she was gone. She’d stared down at her body for several minutes, surprised and wary that it was somehow a trick even though the force was trying to tell her something. Tell her something. Tell her-and it screamed wrong. It screamed pain.

Using the light side of the force was something of a poor turn of phrase. The force uses Jedi, the Jedi are guided and can draw upon it. The force is the will of the Jedi. The Jedi the tools of the force. Force made flesh and nothing more, created by its will, controlled by its will, sacrificed for its designs. That is what truly made them Jedi, the symbiotic relationship with the force. Barriss had not listened but taken, she’d demanded, she’d pulled and squeezed and made it bend to her will. Her own anger and fear greater in that moment. She’d broken something there, something in her and something in the force.

She’d left, slowly and calmly. As if she had no other cares in the galaxy. As if she had more important things to do. The comm to report Letta’s body, death unknown, had been trivial. Barriss had left to her transport and shook the whole ride back.

Luminara called her to the temple hanger. The council had an assignment for her, and had determined her fit to be a knight. That she had passed her trials after her dogged perusal of the bomber. Her faith whole and unwavering. Master Obi-Wan was there, to represent the council.

“Kneel Padawan Learner Barriss Offee.”

This was wrong. She did not have enough nanodroids in her bloodstream to successfully detonate them. Even if she had it would only kill two Jedi Masters. Not the shock this system needed. It was all wrong and too soon, it wasn’t according to plan. It wasn’t even in her backup plans. It was over. The force howled again at her before snapping shut, a distant thing.

Barriss knelt and let them speak words over her, meaningless words from one broken thing to another. They called her Knight, she was no longer Jedi. She didn’t know what she was.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka has always had two Masters. She knows where one is, she knows where the other is not.

“This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen with a dark shadow of the Empire rising to take their place. This message is a warning and a reminder for any surviving Jedi. Trust in the Force. Do not return to the Temple...that time has passed, and our future is uncertain. We will each be challenged. Our trust. Our faith. Our friendships. But we must persevere, and in time a new hope will emerge. May the Force be with you, always.”

The image before her blurred, twisted, reformed. There was a slight static pop as the message repeated.

“This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. I regret to report that-”

It was so strange to see him, to hear him again. Familiar. How many times had Ahsoka spoken with Master Obi-Wan this way? Hundreds, maybe thousands. She would call to update their progress, he would call to update his. Usually very public and contained. It was rare when he called on her personal comm to check in with her or chat. She had valued those calls, counted them like precious coins. Anakin was her Master, but so was Master Obi-Wan. She loved him.

The image seemed to shiver, as if he’d felt her thoughts all those years ago. There was a slight crackle and a pop.

“This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

She still did, in a way. Mustafar had been...had been. Obi-Wan had been fighting for his life against a madman, a sith. Ahsoka had believed that Anakin deserved to lose the fight. Seeing the end though, seeing Anakin tumbling through the air (an image burned in her mind, the screaming in the force from both men as the cuts were made, as if it had hurt just as much to inflict them as receive them), it had caused something in her to snap. She couldn’t just let him die, not like that, not in the fire. He could be helped or he could help them. Murder was not the Jedi way.

But Anakin had fallen into the ash, the black sand catching him as Obi-Wan watched him slide toward the lava flow. Ahsoka had reacted on instinct.

_ Obi-Wan shouted something as she flew past him, his fingers failing to catch her arm. His presence warning her. Then gone. She slid down the hill, kicking sand and gravel up to stop the flames that burned Anakin. No longer her master. Obi-Wan was her master too, her only master now. She looked up and it seemed like an eternity as she did not see him. Obi-Wan had turned away. _

_ He will still be there (she’d know already that he wouldn’t). _

_ She had climbed higher and higher, legs shaking by the time she reached the top. He wasn’t there, he’ll be at the shuttle. (Anakin has a ship, I can follow on Anakin’s ship. We’ll find the nearest med center. Obi-Wan is just taking Padme there.) _

_ At the landing pad she had found two ships. Anakin’s and Palpatine’s. _

Obi-Wan hadn’t meant to kill them both, she knew that. She’d known that even as her master raged. No, no longer her master, not anymore. Never again.

  
She watched the message stutter, like water steaming on impact. A hiss and a pop, and the message repeated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy I have some opinions about Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, and they deserve so much more time together? Just, ugh, let the ginger wolfman be happy!


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first test is always simple, because the test is always rigged.

Bail stares at her for too long, and she does her best not to fidget. The mask was an annoyance but did help her hide away, so to speak, and it was proving invaluable to her. The Empire was a scant few years old, years she had been missing and presumed dead, and her growth spurts were well timed to help disguise her. Ahsoka does not want to be recognized. She does not want Bail to see through the mask. She doesn’t know what she’ll do if he does.

This is a test. A test to make sure she will remain in check. A test to ensure her loyalty is in the right place. A test to grant her more freedoms. More power.

She is no longer content to exist, she can no longer find joy in simply seeing and being with others. She is tired of being shunted to the side, she is angry at having been practically forgotten. This simple mission will allow her great access to Vader, allow her to train again, allow her slightly more time away from the Emperor. It will allow her to stay out of her cell.

This simple mission is only holding together because of this visor and voice modifier.

Bail’s piercing gaze finally turns to the Grand Inquisitor, and Ahsoka can feel a wave of something from the senator. Sadness, disappointment? The force has been dim and distant in a way, and Ahsoka can no longer let it flow through her. She catches it in fits and starts. But the thought that he would be looking for her, that anyone had held out hope-

Ahsoka forces her thoughts to center again as the two men begin to speak. She doesn’t bother to truly listen to their conversation, she isn’t supposed to anyways. They are both Grand Inquisitors, he will tell her if there is anything of note.

Her feet move without her, walking quietly past them and pretends to watch the city outside Bail’s window. She came here a few times with Padme when she was getting a more hands on political lesson. Ahsoka sat in that chair (it was so uncomfortable but she had been mortified to spill even water on it) and laughed as the two senators teased one another, ever deferring the power and titles the other bestowed. She had seen the secret panel that Bail used to hide a blaster in when he thought she wasn’t looking. Padme had later told her that most senators had at least a few hidden nooks in their office and their apartments. Ahsoka doesn’t open them, she simply finds the one she knows exists in the force and begins to search for the others.

Amidala was a traitor, Organa is heavily implicated to be the same. They have already visited Mon Mothma, they will see Chuchi next. These dissenters will learn the value of silence.

Ahsoka concentrates, her eyes closed but she can’t draw on what she needs. The force is flickering. This is it’s own test. She is worthless to the Empire if she will not claim her right to use the force. If she will not demand better for herself, for the Emperor, for the Inquisitorium, then she has been nothing but a failed investment. Her heart feels like it will beat out of her chest at the thought. Her failure is Vader’s failure.

No. She will earn her place, piece by piece.

Ahsoka draws the darkness in, find the other hidden places in the room. Feeling out where things have been taken and placed with anger and fear. She has learned this well, darkness calls more darkness to it. There are four different potential spots. She touches the Grand Inquisitor’s mind imparting their locations. She does not stop her search as she walks back over to them.

Bail doesn’t flinch as she draws near, but she can read his surprise, his concern. The Grand Inquisitor smiles at her though, a strange feeling of pride from him to her. Pride in herself. Fear of what’s next. The thread breaks.

This is a very simple test. Very easy. That’s what she was told and in a way it’s true. Her tasks are simple. It’s choking her own connection to the light that is difficult. Like forcing her head underwater again, and again. Like peeling the skin from her arms. Like pulling her tongue out by the root.

She has to prove she is willing. Ahsoka knows she will survive this.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Passion gives you strength, anger gives you focus. Use your talents or else you are not worthy of them. If you are not worthy, then you are not worth the space you take, the air you breath.

She is knocked down, forehead pressed onto the rough floor. Cold and hot, the surface seems the perfect place to simply die. She is face down on the floor, the dust and grit almost tickling as she breathes it in between choked out sobs. Her surely broken ribs creak and the world seems fuzzy. Her montrals feel like two lead weights. She can’t breath like this, she can’t  **breath** . The heaviness of his steps traveling closer race like white hot lightning from her forehead down her neck.

“Get up.” His voice is even, almost calm as he gives the order.

It’s like a light switch, the rage flows through her at the command. She is trying, she has been trying to simply stand up for what feels like years. He won’t let her, for all his talk of making her more of his equal, he is content to force her down. Ungrateful. She pushes up onto her hands and knees, gasping for air. Her muscles spasm at the simple abuse of moving. Tears roll down her face and neck, the disappear into her sweat soaked undershirt. She doesn’t look up at him, not anymore, she won’t. Ahsoka knows he is standing easily, watching her like one might watch a particularly interesting bug. She hates him and she wants nothing more right now then to stand up and spit blood in his face. All her focus on that one goal. Stand up and spit.

Her feet are under her, she is half crouching and half standing when she loses track of the world again. The force hasn’t stopped howling since they entered this room and so she’d had no warning. Pain as she hurtles through obstacles. They break under the weight and speed of her limp body. Her ability to force shield herself is gone. It’s been gone for hours at least. He throws her around like a rag doll, a trail of blood showing her progress. This time she stays face up, twisting and mewling as the injuries are all rattled again. The physical pain greater than any she’s ever felt.

A black figure looms over her and she forces herself to concentrate on the clasp of his cape. A silver chain.

“Get up.”

The mask alters his voice, makes it deeper than it should be. She slowly rolls onto her side, then her stomach. Her face is practically on his boot, she again feels the blood and drool and cannot seem to purse her lips. The blood dribbles out between her lips as she focuses again on standing. She will not let him kill her like this, not without a fight. She will not stay down and given him reason. Her mad dog master. The world spins again as she gets a few inches of height, collapsing down and fighting that too. She shuffles onto her knees, hunched but at least upright. She grabs the control panel on his suit and hauls herself up.

His gloved hands seize her roughly, as he snarls at her.

She smiles back at him in triumph.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reading the "Ahsoka" novel and damn, ooooooo, arg, omg, and then, !!!
> 
> Anyways you should check it out. :D


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barriss always did take on the cases that were difficult, if not impossible.

She touches, slowly and softly, waiting for a reaction. Some sign to guide her actions. But nothing comes. The back under her fingers is like a block of ice, solid and frozen and unmoving. Barriss tilts her head thoughtfully before sitting next to him, her hand moving to his shoulder, her arm draped across his back.  Ezra doesn’t flinch away but he doesn’t turn in towards her.

Barriss had never considered that she would miss that motion, that the way he sometimes threw himself into her arms with joy or sadness would mean so much. At fourteen, having lived alone, he’d resisted physical touch. Before his fifteenth birthday Ezra had touched whenever he could. When he and Kanan had been struggling in his apprenticeship Barriss had become a natural source of comfort after she had all but become another specter. She had held him when he cried, and when he laughed. Ezra had buried his face into her, his shoulders shaking either way.

Since Malachor, he had become stone.

She could not heal Kanan’s eyes fully, she reformed them and made them whole. But Barriss could not make them see. She’d drained herself day after day healing him as bacta patches dried over the wound. She’d done what she could. She done everything that she possibly could. She wondered if Ezra blamed her at all for the outcome.

_ If it isn’t the traitor herself, impressive if ill planned. _

Barriss let the old hurt go, as best she could. The way Kanan had tensed, the way Ezra had asked. The explanation falling from Maul’s poisoned tongue. Ahsoka’s bitter laughter at that. Barriss let each pain go with each of Ezra’s breaths.

He didn’t pull away, and she turned in towards him. He curled in, hands resting at his elbows. She tugged, gently, giving him the choice, and he tilted into her. Hands fisting into her shirt as she wrapped around him. His sobbing muffled as she kissed the top of his head. The guilt simply rolled off of him, and she let it wash over her too.

He was too young for this. They were supposed to protect him from this. She was supposed to protect him.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka only seeks one thing, hope.

Ahsoka desires it, she wants to kill Palpatine, to see the life drain out of him as he screams in pain and in fear. She wants that almost more than anything else. She wants his blood hot and sticky on her. She can imagine tearing him apart, her teeth sinking deep into his throat, she would tear it out and let the spray wash over her. One’s hatred can keep them alive through almost anything, the only cost is sanity. She’d love to see him fall into a pit of madness unable to call on his powers fully.But...she’d rather see him bleed out.

Mostly she wants revenge. Revenge for the Jedi, the Republic, her master, herself. This one man took everything from her. He has snuffed out the lights. She doesn’t care if another takes over the Empire at this point, she just doesn’t want him to have it. Anything to take everything he wanted away.

Secondly though, it would allow her to be Sith. Truly. Her Master, her true Master, he cannot take her on as his own apprentice yet. Not fully. He teaches her much, but he will not share his Sith knowledge until he is Lord of the Sith. Then she can take her rightful place by his side. Openly, publicly, without the mask and the lies. Ahsoka is tired of her old name, she longs to earn a new one.

Palpatine of course knows, he knows that is what she wants but that she will not move without Vader. So he keeps Vader in line, and it keeps her in line. Ahsoka is a Grand Inquisitor, it should be her name now.

But the Emperor calls her “The Apprentice”, a jest for his own amusement. A laugh at the way her anger burns, the hatred stripping her bare before him.

A game.

So she studies, and trains, and practices. She takes every mission. She leaves nothing unturned. She barely sleeps and rarely eats. She lets the force sustain her. She will be more, she will be enough. Once her Master is secured in his place he will never need fear her desiring the same.

Ahsoka hopes to rise with him. She hopes the Sith will die with her.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Words have power.

This was harder than Ahsoka had first thought it would be. Not that she’d expected it to be easy but she hadn’t considered the true level of difficulty. A self awareness that she’d purposefully set aside for too long. A self examination that had left her emotions scattered and left her feeling very small. She had chosen darkness over light because it had hurt not to, because she was afraid to die before she’d saved Anakin, because she was afraid to lose everything she’d ever loved. She’d been so afraid and so hurt that she had eventually chosen the twisting darkness over the light. 

_ I was an idiot. _

The thought wasn’t a new one, but now it meant something very different. Ahsoka was not tricked into it. She hadn’t accidentally used it. She had purposefully walked into the shadows, eyes open if head bowed. Ashamed to stop being a Jedi, but unwilling to let go just yet.

The word still made something in her twist and seethe, the hot shame and rage of having been a Jedi. To finally acknowledge who she had been though, half of her life dedicated to the Order, was equally soothing. A balm that was ruined as the frigid shame of having willingly become darker, to have not fallen but jumped...

_ Now I can just be ashamed of everything I’ve been _ .

An equally unfair thought. She had been what she had chosen to be, regardless of what that was specifically. Both times she had chosen it, understanding what it might mean for her if not all the specifics. Now a third time she had been presented with the choice to stay as she was or become something more. And she’d taken it too. She found herself in a very awkward spot, neither of her lives had prepared her for the sense of helplessness that came from being truly severed from them. Not Jedi, not Sith, just Ahsoka force sensitive. She needed to make sense of that and the first step was one that all initiates on either side had to take.

Introspection.

Ahsoka had come to a decision early on in the process, she needed a code that she could live by. One that was hers and hers alone. So she had decided to test and try, words skittering on and off the page. Everything had been wrong though. The words stilted and rough, what did she believe in? What would guide her? The past returned again and this time Ahsoka let the memories flow through her. The Jedi Code had merit, even if she did not believe in the subsuming nature of it. The Sith Code had two redeemable aspects to her, small kernels of truth. Passion gives one strength, but not the kind the Sith believed. The force will set you free. So she’d fumbled her own combined version out. Something to help her for now, something to refine later. Later she could write a new version, think harder on it, craft a new code for herself when she knew herself. 

It was equally bad, she couldn’t imagine imparting it to anyone.

It didn’t matter what others thought, they wouldn’t hear it anyways. 

Many soft voices chanting together,  _ when all else fails you remember these words _ ...

So she stood stiffly as Barriss read them aloud from the pad where Ahsoka had made various iterations. A pad that was supposed to be turned off. Her words, her half thought code, incomplete and ragged at the edges. Barriss sat curled up on the bench that passed as a cot, feet tucked underneath herself. Her eyes were unfocused, staring far beyond the pad in her hand, past the walls of the base. Something working in her, through her. The force works in mysterious ways. (the force will set you free)

Perhaps, perhaps this “code” was more than hers. Ahsoka struggled against herself before sitting next to her guest. Another not Jedi. Barriss Offee, force sensitive.

  
Bright blue eyes stared into her own for a moment, as if searching for a reason. Then Ahsoka watched as green fingers began to tap on the screen, a new iteration of words tumbling out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, I will be posting a lot less this coming week. I don't have a full week's load lined up this time around and work is going to be topsy turvey. 
> 
> Also, super different direction, anyone interested in me posting a longer story (both in chapter and over all length), because I'll admit I've gotten somewhat dragged away from this thanks to a werewolf AU that I need a beta for. Anyone have a suggestion for places I could find one? I laughed when I saw this snippet again because I hear it Ahsoka, writing is hard.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra asks Ahsoka for help. Turns out Sith holocrons are not so willing to help.

“You need to relax.” She speaks softly, confidently. A whisper in his ear as his hand shakes.

“It’s fighting me, how am I supposed to relax?” Ezra is almost panting, the exertion becoming too much. The small animal shakes, howls in fear, turns to run-

Ahsoka does not need aid to do this on her own, something so small, so pitiful requires no effort. Though her hands remain at her side, and her gaze remains on the boy who breathes harshly through his nose, the cat stops mid run.

There is no trembling, it simply stops and turns around. It returns to the spot Ahsoka has marked and lays down.

“You are more powerful than it is. You can snap it’s neck with a thought, or your boot heel. You can catch it, trick it, tame it if you want to. There is nothing it can do. It is an animal and you are the culmination of the force.” Ahsoka is paraphrasing something she heard long ago, making it more palatable to him. Something that he can use. After all she isn’t here to break the boy down, she was asked by him to teach. Ezra stares up at Ahsoka, before looking at it again. She can feel his pang of guilt and sorrow. “Ezra, you have a unique ability to connect. With animals that is fantastic, and better to use. But you cannot control a person the same way. There is no offering, there is no request for friendship before you kill them. For humans there is no true option beyond brute control.”

He grimaces, but nods. He shies away from the reason he needs to learn this skill, fails to replace it for another. To him it’s murder, to her it’s defence. 

“Again.” Her own force grip lightens as Ezra reaches out again, taking control of the animal.

As every time he’s tried before, Ezra begins to shake, his mind fighting more than the animal’s. Unwilling to take the final step, traumatizing the animal instead of taking control. Traumatizing himself instead of becoming more powerful.

Ahsoka knows, she understands, she does, she did. She doesn’t have the patience for this.

“Use your passion Ezra, use your fear. You are afraid your friends will die, channel that into something greater than this. Protect them.”

For a moment she thinks he will do it, the barest mention of his friends helping him to focus. As he teeters on the brink, closer than he’s even gone before, he withdraws.

Before Ezra can pull his senses fully back into himself, Ahsoka reaches in the force and kills it.

There isn’t even an audible sound as she snaps its neck. The small thing goes limp collapsing to the ground. Ezra gasps hands flying to his own throat. The resonance of the connection tells him that his neck was snapped, that he is dead for moments before he returns to himself. In a heartbeat he is back on his feet, his face inches from hers. “No! What did you do that for? There was no need for that!”

_ “Be grateful that I did not do the same to you! I have told my Master that you are worth this effort, I told him I trust you. Do not make me a liar!” _

_ Ahsoka winces, her eyes frozen on the dead spicer. She stays on her knees. _

Ahsoka backhands Ezra hard enough that he staggers. Her other hand grabbing him by his vest, dragging him back to her, dragging him slightly into the air. “You failed to control it, you have failed to save your friends, and you failed to complete this training.”

He grips her forearms with bruising strength, and the anger rolling off him is like a breath of fresh air. Ahsoka won’t pull on his anger just pushes her own into this tenuous thing between them.

“Now,” she continues before dropping him, “you have actual focus. Use it.”

She reaches out, forcing a bird to turn and fly down. It lands on the side of the cat, lightly jumping and head twitching side to side.

“No!”

The bird begins to peck at the face of the cat, bits of flesh coming away. “Do you think that in the heat of a battle you will take control of a person, a sentient being with thoughts like yours, and kill them without having worked your way there? You will fail again Ezra Bridger. If you wish to learn dark side powers, then you must use the dark side of the force. This is no game. This is not training, this is practical application boy. You either survive or you fail.”

His eyes remain locked on the bird as it plucks out an eye, and bathes in the viscera left behind. 

“If you want this to stop, then make it stop. Again, this time...with feeling.” Ahsoka sneers and lets her grip slide.

His returns, and for the first time connects the way it needs to. His will imposed on the bird, his desires overriding its own. It is not an exchange or a request, but a demand. It stops bathing, it flutters a few meters away and shakes viciously. He’s trying to get the blood off before letting go. He doesn’t want it to suffer. He doesn’t have the strength to keep his grip and the bird darts away.

For a moment they both stand there, Ezra following the bird desperately in the force while Ahsoka watches him. Then there is silence as he rubs at his forehead with a shaking hand, before sinking to his knees.

“This...this isn’t what I thought it would be like.” His voice is trembling and weak, his gaze locked onto the mid distance.

“It is one thing to describe it Ezra, it is another to use it. This is the cost. Every time, this will be the cost. If you do not want it badly enough, if you will not sacrifice anything for it, then this is not the way for you.” She hesitates and kneels next to him. Her hand gently touches his shoulder, and he jerks away.

She lets it drop and rocks backwards to give him more space.

“How, how did you do it? How do you manage to do it so easily?” His wide blue eyes stare up into her face. It’s like he’s seeing her for the first time again. Ahsoka watches every bit of effort she’s put in to prove herself worthy crumbling.

_ The boy stares at her, dread and horror rising. His mind practically gibbering “red blade” over and over before he can think to act. But it’s underlined, in a way most people’s fear of her is not. He is disgusted by her, he hates her. If he had a weapon he would attack her, but he is unarmed so he is afraid first. _

Ahsoka frowns thoughtfully at him.

“That anger, I know you aren’t that mad at me right now.” He sounds almost distant to her. His voice almost floating away on the breeze.

“The weaker dark force users hate themselves, the anger always there. But self hatred either shackles your abilities or destroys you, it keeps you pliant and a slave to other’s wills. The stronger ones find hatred outside of themselves something to focus on, to obsess over, to hate above all else.” Ahsoka pauses, trying to find better words.

“And you hate the Empire now, you want to end it.” He nods, turning again to look into the woods. His own anger thrumming.

Ahsoka is grateful that he cannot see the look on her face.


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She learned a lot of flying during the Great Blackouts

_ Blackout gave one of his trademark lazy wing pops, a salute of sorts. _ Ahsoka smirked as the B Wing twisted and jinked, being put through its paces the wing foils popping up and down repeatedly as she went.  _ “Yeh see, the trick here is to almost stall out. Don’t stall out though Commander, General wouldn’t appreciate.” _ Hera stalled the ship out letting it drop before the engines kicked in, Kanan winced as if waiting for the crash in brilliant lights.

 

_ She drifted, power cut and leaving only her borrowed bag between herself and the cold of space. She was waiting for a signal to start the sneak attack, for now she was nothing more than detris drifting through space. Her face was turned up staring in wonder at all the stars that stretched out before her, the large gas giant they drifted around. It was beautiful, it was the most amazing thing she’d ever seen. _

 

“Have you ever seen anything so amazing!” Ezra said, his voice hushed with awe but a huge grin on his face.

 

Zeb laughed and punched Sabine’s arm, his ears twitching with his hearty chuckles. “Kid you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

 

Kanan smiled indulgently at his Padawan, but said nothing. His eyes twitching back up to follow the nearly crazy stunts above them.

 

_ “Alright, follow this and you can have my triple chocolate double caramel crunch cake.” Blackout drew out the syllables as he spoke. She could see his smirk. _

 

_ “Not fair! I’d do anything for the tee-cee dee-cee, and you know it.” Ahsoka was already trying to keep up with her ace pilot as he took them through a cave system. Her abilities not quite as good as his. _

 

_ “Ha! Know your enemy!” _

 

Ahsoka shrugged, gaze now only vaguely in the right direction. “Once.”

 

“Oh come on, your Imperials? Really? Most of them seem mediocre at best.” Zeb huffed, looking at her in his peripherals.

 

_ “Mayday, mayday, mayday, I’m all bent, going down fast, where’s my assist?” _

 

_ “On my way, hang on!” _

 

_ “Two vultures here, got them on my tail!” _

 

_ “Sheath the fangs Rip Pack!” _

 

_ “I can’t shake them!” _

 

_ “Pop em, I’ve got the hooks out.” _

 

_ “Negative, it’s too hot!” _

 

_ “Blackout you are not some smoking hole!” _

 

_ “Ha! Not yet, watch this one Commander!” _

  
Ahsoka shrugged, the B Wing flipping nearly end over end before righting itself, finally landing after being put through it’s paces. The crew moved forward to get a better look and quizz their Captain. Ahsoka looked up at the clouds, into the green sky of this planet, it’s lone orange sun in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, what is life? (Hint: 6 day work weeks, election, nanowrimo, and sickness)
> 
> I do have a few more chapters written up and a final chapter, just need to get them less...fubbernucked before posting.
> 
> Nanowrimo is chugging along well, also all Tano related with a section somewhat focused on this universe from a different perspective. We'll see about that maybe going somewhere instead of being, well, nano'd. :D


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She doesn't need them to trust her, but she does want them too. It's a frightening and new distinction to have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow even LESS chronologically in order than usual, I think it's a personal record.

“So, who are you?” The man was playing at nonchalance, but his signature was smooth in the force. Too smooth, no ripples the way there should have been. His face was a frozen lake. It wasn’t a rookie mistake by any means, but it was a dead giveaway that he was used to hiding from untrained force sensitives. That he was consciously hiding and trying to appear calm and collected. Didn’t stop him from sitting in a such a way as to be able to grab his lightsaber in a heartbeat.

A Jedi, a trained Jedi.

Even without her mask to hide her face and creating a similar illusion Ahsoka knew this game. She knew what it meant to bide your time and appear confident, and she was good at it. This man looked every part of a regular spacer, well practiced too. Something told her it wasn’t entirely a front either. He was so  **young** . It was a ridiculous thought, she herself was still young. Probably one of her age mates, probably why he was asking. With his adult features set in and facial hair she wouldn’t be able to place him easily. She hoped that the way her facial markings had stretched as she reached physical maturity would conceal her as well from him. Humans simply didn’t have an eye for that sort of thing, often surprised by the way the markings separated or pulled. To be fair she had a hard time when facial hair came into play, it hid jaw lines and distorted the edges of their lips.

He gave a small huff before scratching at his jaw, apparently unamused at her quiet observation. “Alright, I suppose it doesn’t matter that much anyways.”

Still, he sat in silence with her. Watching. Waiting.

  
  


_ Their lightsabers met, blow after blow, red and blue but the flashes as they connected were green and white. It was distracting and disorienting. Her crystals had always been finicky, and had always been hers. Part of the problem was that they did not want to bleed;producing the red she needed. Ahsoka had refused to give them up, and had to force them to the new color every time she used them. She made them the color she needed, told them to stay that way. They never did, always trying to revert to something else. Her concentration so much on making the crystals just listen to her-he managed to score a line across her chest plate. This Jedi, this JEDI would die. Her crystals screamed in the force. _

_ A young boy screamed, hurling little electrical balls at her. His signature bursting from the shadows.  _

_ It clicked. _

_ A Jedi Knight, protecting his young Padawan. Where there should have been placid features set into a hard permanent snarl. The Knight was prepared, he was prepared to die for his Padawan, who was prepared to die in turn for his Master. Ahsoka wanted to scream at them then. She understood, she understood better than he could imagine. They could both join, didn’t he understand, they could both join and still be- _

_ And still be... _

_ She howled, letting the force drown her.  _

_ No. Of course he wouldn’t see, this one was too old, too set. The Padawan was promising though. Very promising. If they wouldn’t join together, he would need a teacher. _

  
  


The Jedi suddenly leaned forward, brows drawn together and eyes narrowed. As if memorizing her face. His force signature finally shifting out from the strange hidden depths he’d banished it to. His face tightened, before he dropped his head into his hands.

“Ahsoka Tano?” His voice was rough as he said her name. “I remember you from the war, you were always out in front of it. I was disappointed that no one interviewed a young padawan on the field. If anyone would get the chance it would have been you thanks to Knight Skywalker.”

So much despair, so much hurt. She practically lunged to draw on it.

 

  
_ “And these are your quarters.” Kanan’s voice was dripping with sarcasm as he led her to a small holding cell. His smile growing wider as she turned to look at him, and then he gave her a rough shove in. The ray shield activating behind her. _

_ Ahsoka paused, pulled her anger in around her like a cloak and turned to face the doorway. Her hands felt nearly numb from being handcuffed behind her too long. She didn’t complain, just sunk to her knees to meditate. These weren’t idiot initiates that had a chance to take her, so she kept her back to wall. _

_ This Rebellion was more organized than they had realized. They knew that now she knew it. There were only two outcomes. They would either kill her to stop her or she would return to her Master with enough information to end them. _

_ “Yeah good luck with that, force dampeners.” His voice echoed slightly in the room, the slight knocking sound from his rapping on the frame bouncing for a heartbeat. _

_ “You are not so versed in the force as you think if you truly believe that one can only meditate with the force,” Ahsoka opened her eyes for just a moment to look at him, “Caleb.” _

_ The man froze, his eyes darting away before he turned to leave. “Good luck anyways.” _

  
  


The Knight hissed, head thrashing from side to side as he leapt to his feet, lightsaber drawn. She hadn’t touched him, she didn’t need to, but his free hand flew up to his temple regardless. The term mind probe was so inaccurate that she had often found it funny. Having had her own mind rifled through, nearly shredded, she understood the kind of pain and terror that accompanied it. The desire to protect what few things were yours and yours alone. She dove in anyways, tearing and pulling and violating anything she could. Names, places, numbers. The boy, who is your Padawan Jarrus?

“No! Not him, not him!”

His blade lashed out wildly at her, but she’d already broken the cheap, old cuffs. She simply caught his hand and pulled him closer. Both hands occupied keeping him close but not allowing his saber to strike. She pressed her cheek against his, needing the skin contact to deepen the probe to aid her search.

He howled and finally began to truly fight back.

 

  
_ “Look Tano, I know you say you’re here to help but I want something clear between us. I don’t trust you. I don’t know if I ever will. Anything goes wrong and you are finished.” His voice was steel as he freed her hands. _

_ “Understood.” She couldn’t stop the small smile. He was so desperately trying to be a proper Jedi, and he was obviously not.  _

_ He grunted before moving away, tossing her a blaster. “Glad to have that understanding.” _

_ Ahsoka quickly checked it, the number of shots left in the cell, the safety latch. The sights weren’t adjusted to her but with the force returned fully to her it didn’t much matter. The blaster was rough and old, probably had been in the same condition twenty years ago. She kept her finger resting on top of the trigger guard and trailed after Jarrus, her senses already stretching out to learn more. _

_ By the time they were about to swing around the corner, Ahsoka had lept ahead, well over them. Two fists connected solidly, her leg shooting up to kick a third, she finished the spin and pulled the last trooper in for a keldabe kiss. The crew looked at her with surprise and she pointed up. “Energy sensors would detect a blaster bolt, and definitely would catch your lightsaber Jarrus. Tie these idiots up and let their commander dole out the punishments.” _

_ Orellios laughed, his bow rifle slung again over his shoulder. “Oh I like this, bit of a hobby see?” _

_ They were a purple and orange blur, their two Jedi escorts trailing after them. One petulant and the other excited to watch a few Imperials get hit. _

  
  


“Bridger, there’s a name I haven’t heard in awhile.” Ahsoka released him and called her lightsabers back to her hands. They whipped around from the back of his belt, half twisting him as he struggled to pull himself together.

“You, you stay away from him!” Kanan’s voice was rough, his breathing erratic.

“Mmm, ‘fraid not. But I think he has more potential with a mentor figure don’t you think? I promise not to throw him blindly into the grinder for Initiates. After all, an apprentice does need a master.”

He growled, his form unrefined from disuse. Ahsoka simply dueled to watch him.

Pathetic.

 

* * *

“Tuck your elbow in, you’re leaving your left side exposed.” Ahsoka called from the sidelines as Ezra pulled himself up after another defeat sparring with his Master.

“What?” The boy looked at her in surprise. Ahsoka had purposefully left a gap between herself and Ezra, she did it to ease Kanan’s worries. To try and prove she could listen and follow his orders. 

“Your elbow, especially on the left side, keep it tucked in tighter. I had the same problem, and trust me you don’t want to take a blaster bolt because of poor form.” She shrugged casually trying to keep the comment as easy to take as possible. Afterall, she was only watching because she was leaving her own morning routine. It was just difficult to watch someone eat the mat that many times in a row without someone correcting the obvious gap.

Kanan scowled at her. “Stay out of it, he’s doing fine!”

So much for respecting boundaries.

“He’s going to get killed if he doesn’t tuck that elbow.” She said flatly.

“Like this?” Ezra asked, apparently oblivious to his master’s wishes. His elbow became too tight to his side, limiting his range and mobility. He gave her a curious glance with an eager grin.

Ahsoka sighed heavily, already feeling the tension rising and her headache worsening. This was why she didn’t train anyone. She walked over and gently moved his elbow back into a proper position. “Like this, too close in and then you’ll have trouble with-”

“Don’t touch him.” Kanan pulled her back by a shoulder.

“She’s trying to help!” Ezra protested, apparently more upset that his master had intervened than anything else. “No harm in some extra advice.”

Ahsoka stepped back with a small frown. “No, but I think that’s it for my advice for today.”

She could feel Kanan’s glare as she walked away. She’d leave them to their own little power struggle, let them both take what they would from it. Ezra would know that she was willing to help and Kanan would know that she could leave it alone. It itched to not stay and feed on the darkness spitting from them, but she needed to resist even if it meant the darkness would feed on her instead.


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not easy to pull someone back from the brink, but that doesn't mean it's the right thing to do.

Ahsoka paced, and worked very hard to not simply snarl and snap at anything that so much as twitched towards her. Pick up was far away and this damn shuttle was tiny. This damn clone was  **infuriating** . (His name is Rex) Of course he seemed to be in as close to a state as he could get these days, warily sitting at the pilot’s chair and considering her every move. She wanted to chew through the hull, or activate the air lock (she’d take his blasters but he’d be scared and hurt by that). This was not her fault!

 

It bared its teeth and wormed through her body, cell by cell, leaving icy trails when the fire burned out.

 

Cramped cell. No sparring. Cramped shuttle. No anything allowed besides breathing apparently. Cramped abandoned base screaming with the sounds of ten thousand dead troopers, reeking of spoiled fluids and rust. Every step had meant feeling it, seeing it, being it.

 

Men rushing past her guns blazing, dying in senseless waves against a never ending force. Men forced to strip their brothers of anything useful. Leaving the bodies to rot where they fell. Unable to do more. Men crying and screaming and dying. Hating the droids, the planet, the rations, the Jedi. Themselves. Rex’s face became two, three, ten, two hundred. Bombs exploded around her nearly fifteen years past and she flinched as the debris failed to hit her. Postcognition was not her forte, force visions were likewise not a strong suit. This place, this place had been marked by the dark, claimed by it, paid for by the deaths over and over and over and over. The darkness didn’t much care if it was normally in her purview or not.

 

It had taken everything in her not to howl along with it, to not let the madness seep in.

 

And she wanted it in a way she hadn’t for a long, long time.

 

Rex didn’t comment if her voice was rough, or if she shied away from the places she brought him. At the time she’d thought he was doing her a favor. She had been wrong.

 

Trapped again in the shuttle and heading back to her Rebellion cell Ahsoka struggled to pull that darkness in and tame it. Ironically perhaps, the darkness was a fire she tended and burned everyday. This mission had dumped shuttle fuel onto the flames and provided more and more to burn. Like Carlac and Geonosis combined. If she could not tame this it would consume her, and she had come too far for that. Too far.

 

“Rex, if I ask you a favor will your grant it?” She hated the way it came out, the request, she could hear her master all over it, she could hear his inflection as he asked for more and more of her.

 

“Depends on the favor.” He allowed with a small shrug.

 

She didn’t quite catch the snarl this time, but forced herself to still. To become stone.  _ Let it burn around you, let it warm you, let it turn you into a weapon. _ “If I lose control now, I ask that you do not kill me. There is...so much left.”

 

Rex narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “You really think I’d just kill you, just like that? This mission was too much, I could see it the moment we hit orbit. Don’t know what sort of Jedi stuff was happening there but it’s clearly done something.”

 

Ahsoka bit the inside of her cheeks, she let her sharp teeth tear through flesh almost biting off chunks. She let the blood build in her mouth instead of answering him.

 

He frowned and glanced aside before looking back. “I suppose sedatives wouldn’t work on you right now, and I’m not interested in the hyper period before a tranq kicks in. What do you need?”

 

She turned and spit, gasping air in as the darkness swirled around her again. What did she need?! She needed him to LISTEN! There was too much left!

 

“ Osi'kyr!” He all but yelp and then he was up, already reaching for the medkit when she punched him. Rex took the hit, moved with the momentum to swing his own fist around.

 

Ahsoka smiled fiercely, yes, yes, exactly this! This is what she needed! Bloody sorrow!

 

And then she felt the kiss of his blaster as it touched her forehead, the second digging into her chest. That was a hell of a move, she hadn’t even noticed him drawing them. His eyes flicking between hers in horror helped to dampen her excitement. When her smile faded, and the snarl returned he lowered both guns.

 

“Twice you’ve meant to kill me.” She hissed, unsure if it was an accusation or thanks.

 

“See,” his voice was light even if there was no hint of humor in his eyes, “and favor granted. I never turned on my Jedi sir, don’t plan to now.”

 

It was like icy rain. It helped to pull her back up to the ocean’s surface, out of the licking flames. A thousand little spears that pierced her flesh.

 

“It would be easier if you would.” She swallowed the blood down now, swallowed it and still some dripped down her chin.

 

Rex looked at her, emotions full of upset and offense. “All due respect I’m a Clone Trooper, not one of those pathetic bucket heads you’ve gotten used to. I do things the right way, not the easy way.”

  
The shuttle chimed alerting them that they would exit hyperspace in four more hours. She barked a laugh before pacing again. “So you say.”


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka learns a valuable lesson, or at least she probably did. It's a bit hard to recall.

She survived the poison, well probably survived the poison, only to die like this. Vader had beaten her back and down, first one way then the other. Ahsoka is tired and weak, and furious that this is being done mostly for the Emperor’s amusement. All of her limbs are heavy, her head is stuffed with cotton, her chest aches. She manages to parry one of her Master’s slow and weak blows only to double over. She vomits blood and bile, red and orange mixing on the floor as she throws a hand out using a desperate force push to keep Vader from simply killing her.

 

He doesn’t expect it, after all, she is supposed to be unable to reach the force with the poison coursing through her. It was the only chance she had to win this duel and it was wasted to save her life.

 

She reaches deeper, past everything else, she reaches deeper and finds something there. It’s twisting and calls. Hot and cold. She tries to pull away, she doesn’t want to touch it but it’s far too late and they can both  **feel** what she’s done. Ahsoka laughs, it’s brittle and manic, and sounds like someone else laughing far away from her.

 

Danger.

 

She jerks her whole body back, standing upright and pulling her head back. It feels a bit like someone has shot her point blank in the face with an AA gun. The white hot pain of it sending her stumbling backwards, slipping on the puddle she created on the floor. There is a high pitched ringing in her ears as she rolls. Someone is attacking her. She needs to get away. She is hurt.

 

It’s literally everything she knows in that moment.

 

Someone is attacking me, I need to get away, I am hurt.

 

One hand flails on the ground for something to fight with, she isn’t dead yet, and the other is braced on fingertips. Thumb on one cheek, two fingers on her forehead, two fingers on the other cheek. Both hands shake violently. Her eyes are squeezed shut from the pain, and she tries to open them. She will die is she can’t see-she hits something. A force holding her down by her shoulders, another digging into her gut. She throws a wild punch and meets hard edges. There is a shout and then something hits her face and explodes.

 

Someone is screaming, and it’s annoying. She is in pain too, she is in true pain, and someone else has the gall to scream. The thing digging into her lifts and crushes again. Something breaks, hip or pelvis, she isn’t sure. She vomits again, and it touches the open wounds on her lips and chin. A hand grabs her and then the force is flowing through her. Darkness rendering everything she’s felt till this moment into a gentle caress.

 

There is nothing but the pain and when it stops, all she knows is that she is somehow still alive and that everything hurts.

 

_ In and out, in and out, in and out, you’re doing well, you will survive, in and out. _

 

Ahsoka finally realizes that the screaming is coming from her. 

 

_ You will survive my apprentice, but you must breath! _

 

She doesn’t have control of her body though. It thrashes and screams and generally isn’t responding. There is vomit and blood, piss and sweat. She can smell something burning.

 

_ You are more than your flesh, breath through the pain, I know it hurts, I know, I understand. _

 

He does, he once took a lightsaber to the face too. He was very proud of being complete bastard about his handsome little scar. Of course, now he has plenty of scars. Plenty.

 

_ One more burst and we’ll be finished. _

 

Ahsoka doesn’t know what one more burst will feel like and then disappears again. Her body is burning, she is dying, she is disintegrating inside out!

 

She is breathing, weakly and sporadically on the floor, not quite cradled by her Master. His prosthetics dig into her through the heavy fabric of his suit. His cape falling around her, keeping her from view. The hard, cool feeling of his mask pressing into her montral and right lek. His hands grip her so hard that she knows she’ll be lucky if he didn’t break both her arms. His breathing is regulated by the suit, hissing in and out. His mind retreated quiet now. Vader’s touch is the only consolation she has at the moment that he does give a damn. No, not true.

 

She was hurt wasn’t she? Well, hurt worse. He, healed her maybe. Dark healing hurt. It always hurt but was very good at what it did.

 

A voice, weary and somehow much older than she would have expected speaks. “How very disappointing Lord Vader. Leave the mark so she can at least learn something from this lesson. We shall speak on your actions my friend.”

 

The fury is like heat radiating off of him, it feels like an open flame and her traitorous body twists and whimpers. Her face burns and head hurts, and he is burning to the touch.

  
She is very grateful when the next blast of healing renders her unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go on this! Sorry for the delay on getting this out, between work being bad stress and my birthday having been good stress I pretty much curled up under a blanket and did nothing for a while.
> 
> Should have the final chapter posted this week, and if I can ever get the fragments I have finished I'll tack them on after. But for the most part this fic will be finished. I'm hoping to start posting some of my nanowrimo entry from this year as a new story, but I'd like to get the last few chapters of that at least drafted before posting.
> 
> And finally, yes, our girl has a nasty gash that goes diagonally from the right side of her jaw up to where her left brow mark is. I realized that I have that mark very prominently in my mind but had never written about it so...late surprise?? Yay?


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was there waiting for her, waiting as it had for all these years.

Ahsoka is angry, she is frustrated (furious, no no, let that go), and she is simply tired. They don’t understand, none of them understand how difficult it is to try and go back to using nothing but the light side of the force. How draining it is to repeatedly subsume yourself and your own will. How terrifying to let go of the control you are used to. And fear leads to the darkness again. It’s a never ending feedback loop. She has become very disciplined in using the force, she is learning once more how to let it flow through her. Now this? 

 

Kanan is beyond leery of her, and it’s understandable. 

 

“And I will not let her near him, Ezra is vulnerable!”

 

This makes her want to scream. If she’d (still) wanted the boy as an apprentice he would be her apprentice, but Ahsoka doesn’t want to pass on what she’s learned (anymore). Ezra has great promise either way he chooses to go, but it makes no difference if he’s dead (makes no difference because she doesn’t deserve a student).

 

“And I am too tired to do this alone Kanan, I need Ahsoka’s help or she needs to ground Ezra. Either way she will be involved unless you want him to die.” Barriss is settling on her knees her hands already touching the boy and starting to heal. 

 

Ahsoka hesitates before sitting cross legged next to Barriss, turned just slightly with a hand on the thick purple cloak Barriss wears. She tries to center herself in the light, the dark will not help (it feds and feds and feds until there is nothing left and disgorges it all into another)(it burns and burns and burns).

 

Kanan works his jaw, on the verge of tears, before he releases his anger and uncertainty into the force using a directed push towards her. It’s petty but it works.

 

Ahsoka lets it wash into her, pulling the negative in; to use later. She closes her eyes and roughly exhales, pushing it all back out into the force herself. What she would give for the ability to let these things wash over her again, to have them come and go without a thought. She pushes the desire out too, she pushes everything out until she feels hollow and weak. She can feel the dark trying to claw back in and the light hesitant to come. Ahsoka lets the whole galaxy fall away except for three people.

 

Kanan, a flickering flame that grows stronger bit by bit. Barriss, a deep cool pool whose depths are lost. Ezra, a scattered wind buffeted around a canyon looking in every crevice and trying every path.

 

And here she is in the force too, a stupid lump of a rock, a closed set of blast doors. She is afraid to let them down and open up. The darkness is right there and she does not want it anymore. The dark does not care what you want. For a moment the whole group of them stutter. Barriss has opened a path, she is healing cells and flesh and setting things right, but she is waiting for Ahsoka to feed the force into her. Kanan is holding his Padawan steady, making sure that the boy stays open to the healing, making sure that it takes. Both are connected to Ezra, and both are connected to her, they are waiting. They are both uncomfortably aware now of the true nature of her fear. No matter what mask she has worn it is stripped from her now. It all hesitates as they find her wanting, fighting, struggling. Then there is fear, they will fail if she cannot let the light in.

 

Then she is alone, drifting in space and buried under the grassy hills. The woman is there she touches her.  _ Let me help, you are welcome here, you are stronger than you know. _

 

Ahsoka can’t see her, but it feels like blue and tastes like green and all she sees is white.  _ Where is the Brother? He is always here, always, always. _

 

_ I have chosen you. _

 

_ He chose me first. _

 

_ I believe in you. _

 

_ I have abandoned you. _

 

_ I trust in you. _

 

_ I don’t know how… _

 

_ I know you. _

 

_ I know you. _

 

_ I am you. _

 

_ I am me. _

 

_ I am here, I am here, and I am you. _

 

_ We, I, here just here- _

 

And here she is in the force too, a small raptor of brown and white. Tail flicking in excitement. A small bird that can follow the wind, drink from the well, be warmed by the flame. She is here too, different but present.

 

The light simply pours out of her, she is a never ending font of it, she pours it gently into Barriss. Who pours it into Ezra. Who pulls his master to it. All three pulling now from her. The healing starts in earnest.

 

The boy gasps and twitches, the pain of healing gentled by the touches of compassion.

 

Barriss smiles softly through her own shared pain and concentration, sweat gathering under her hood from the work.

 

Kanan stills, his feet planting. He grows roots and is not tethered down but growing himself.

 

Ahsoka lets the force wash over her, through her, from her, into her.


	46. Additional-Rex and Ahsoka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rex takes Ahsoka to medical after catching her trying to hide her injuries. They almost manage to have a heart to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of a few "mentor" figures chapters I wrote, probably my favorite of them too.

Rex’s gaze was hard, his frown chiseled into his face. Ahsoka thought he could be made of stone (perhaps he was, always had been). The lines on his face were set deep and the scars on his body had only gotten bolder. His beard was immaculately trimmed and his armor was polished to a shine. Marble. Granite. Cold blues and whites, even the brown of his skin tinted purple under the medical bays lights.

 

(She’d stopped looking at his eyes long ago. That same color, that same subdued humor and still...still...)

 

Ahsoka sat and stared back as well as she could between the medical droid’s hovering and her own swollen eye. Injections and painkillers than never seemed to help, a running list of her injuries as if it made a difference. Reflexively asking as it worked, “Inform me if this hurts.” Ironic from some half scrapped and salvaged mess itself. Broken cheekbone, broken clavicle, broken ribs, broken arm, broken leg. Bruises all over her body, lacerations ranging from negligible scrapes up to the jagged lines crossing her stomach and sides. Honestly she was a half scrapped and salvaged mess too, but it wasn’t as if she was dead. Ahsoka was certain she’d live long enough even without medical aid. Even if she didn’t draw on the Force, she would have made it until Barriss returned. She wouldn’t wait that long, Ahsoka wasn’t actually a masochist despite what the old clone might think. She could heal the worst of it in trance. Old bastard had found her settling down for it in fact and dragged her here. 

 

As the droid worked Ahsoka found her patience growing thin, and Rex hadn’t moved a single inch.

 

“Is there something else?” Her voice was rough, but she was sure it had at least enough ice to warrant his proper consideration.

 

“Yeah, making sure you stay for your full treatment.” His arms finally unfolded, the lights bouncing cheerily off his gauntlets. “It’s not pleasant I assume.”

 

“I don’t need hand holding,” Ahsoka snarled, barely managing to not scream it at him. 

 

Rex sighed heavily, scrubbing at his face and letting his shoulders droop. “No, but you don’t need to do it alone either.”

 

She wasn’t sure what to say to that. It took actual will power to prevent herself from laughing, after all, she had done this alone for years. Years without him or his worthless help! She didn’t need him, or anyone else, to think her so weak and lowly as to need a nanny. Ahsoka had watched, the memory never quite fading and never quite crystallizing, her own hands fall apart chunk by melted chunk. She had suffered the Emperor’s lightning and lightsaber wounds. She had been spaced, frozen, boiled, and beaten. A few broken bones was nothing. She let the soothing pain from the droid’s work calm her.

 

The droid’s gears whirred with misuse and shoddy maintenance, clicking sounds as it twisted and static in its speakers, “Inform me if this hurts.” It always hurts there’s nothing it can do for that. A click, a whirr, click, the smell of bacta and burning wires. “Inform me if this hurts.”

 

It was a poor meditative chant but it would work well enough. Right as she was about to reach that new clearing in her mind, the one steeped in warm, yellow light, another thought occurred to her.

 

“I am not backsliding.” She hissed the words, eyes snapping to watch as his frown deepened. Little lines appearing on his forehead, around his mouth, all well worn with age.

 

Rex pushed himself away from the wall with a small grunt, popping his back quickly before finally standing at her bedside. She could feel it in the Force, see it in his face, he knew she wasn’t. He was scared. Scared for what? Her? Ahsoka wanted to strangle him, shake him, scream at him. There was no need for these overtures, the way his eyes glinted with disappointment, as if she was fifteen again. His love used to make her swell with pride and affection.

 

She’d rarely felt so small.

 

Ahsoka once more turned her gaze forward, towards her hands and the droid’s work. (“Inform me if this hurts.”)

 

Rex’s hand lifted, hovering just over hers. Close enough to feel the heat from him. Ahsoka could remember what it felt like when he used to squeeze her hand to lend her strength. She didn’t move to meet him and slowly he withdrew it again. Some decision was made as he sighed, the shadow of his head bobbing across her exposed middle.

 

“We leave in an hour, we should be back in a week. I promise, we’ll find Saw.”

 

She was supposed to be on this mission. She was supposed to right an old wrong and instead she was trapped on base thanks to Rex’s interference. That old hate welled up in her in viscous, oily black bubbles.

 

Ahsoka grabbed him by the rim of his chest plate before he could move (before she could think better of it). “If you return without him…” Her nails dug into the collar of his shirt, small pin pricks of fire blooming from where her freezing skin touched his neck. She let go and let her hand go limp on the bed.

 

“I won’t leave him behind Sir.” Rex’s fingers tapped the edge of her mattress. A warmth in his words. A warmth in the Force.

 

Ironic, ironic, ironic. Promising and abandoning again and again.

 

She listened to his heavy footfalls and the droid’s questions and the sound of her own ragged breathing. Barriss was going to pitch a fit, Ahsoka gave the droid a thin smile. (“Inform me if this hurts.”) 

 

Maybe she was backsliding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is interested I have a mentor chapter written up for Vader, Padme, and Obi-Wan. As always, let me know if there's something you'd like to see in particular and I'll see what I can kick into gear.
> 
> Also, if you haven't, feel free to check out my Close But No Cigar AU! Because I am apparently all Tano, all the time.


	47. Additional- Padme and Ahsoka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka shrinks into the shadows and covers her mind in cobwebs and dust. Small, forgotten, unimportant. When Padme’s eyes pass the space she’s cowering, Ahsoka pretends that Padme sees her, recognizes her, and dismisses her. It’s easier that way when her gaze slides away.

Ahsoka knows that she was never supposed to know, that this was one of the many secrets that the Rebellion purposefully was keeping from her. For good reason, if Ahsoka had been in their place she would have hidden it away too. Unlike them she would have found a secure place to put Padme under constant guard, let her work on the logistics and attending holo calls from the safety of a forgotten planet. Ahsoka would have rather withered into a permanent fixture outside her door than let the ex-Senator go willingly into danger. She knew what this one woman was to Vader.

(Ahsoka forced the anger out piece by molten piece. How dare they hide this? How different would it all have been, how different if Vader had known? Would they have implemented his plan and killed the Emperor, knowing Padme was alive out here? Would he have loved her more, cared for Ahsoka’s well being more, knowing that his beloved Padme lived?

(Perhaps he would have left her in that dark cell, forgotten. That would have been kinder.)

Ahsoka feels Padme’s presence in the Force a split second before she sees her. Hair now liberally streaked with gray, woven into a crown around her head. Her clothes were practical, nothing to draw undue attention to herself, though Ahsoka could already tell there must be hidden pockets and stashes all over it. Her face has few lines and her eyes are deadly sharp. For a moment Ahsoka simply floats away on her own shock allowing herself just to feel the joy, the anger, the fear. She forgets her shields, she forgets what she was doing, she forgets why she was here in the first place. Padme’s here, her friend, her mentor. She’s here. She’s alive. She’s alive!

Padme’s head snaps to the side, her eyes scanning for something.

Ahsoka shrinks into the shadows and covers her mind in cobwebs and dust.  _ Small, forgotten, unimportant.  _ When Padme’s eyes pass the space she’s cowering, Ahsoka pretends that Padme sees her, recognizes her, and dismisses her. It’s easier that way when her gaze slides away. It hurts less.

Ahsoka waits for almost an hour afterwards both hoping to give herself enough space to leave, and hoping to catch one more look before Padme leaves again. No one returns.

So she leaves, slinking through every pocket of quiet darkness she can. Skirting around crowds and avoiding droids.  _ She’s an idiot. _ Yavin IV is covered in Sith Temples, this very base may have been a temple. Ahsoka blocks herself as best she can from the Force; denying herself it’s use. Ahsoka doesn’t want it to trick her into meeting Padme. She doesn’t know what she’ll say. Eventually though, Yavin Base runs out and Ahsoka stands in one of the gaping openings near the base of the ziggurat. She’s far enough out that the humidity is weighing her down, the climate controls only working near the center of their operations to keep their heat signature down. From here she can see the rich soil and the dense jungle, she struggles to breath and it’s perfect.

Ahsoka sinks to her knees and lets the space wash over her. The heat, humidity, the smell of mold and decay, and the sounds. All the sounds of life. She is here to contemplate her place as she sees it, not to contemplate the Force as it sees her. (Broken and struggling and  _ frail. _ )

So it’s easy to hear the footsteps approaching her after an unknown amount of time has passed. Steady and soft, but there.

For one moment she opens her eyes and considers simply running away. Running into the wilderness and finding a spot she can hide herself away. Letting herself die off there, letting the rot and the mold grow and spread through her crumbling veins. Bloating her body out and melting away. To be nothing but bone. It’s a (foolish) day dream, one she can’t actually pursue. Perhaps this is part of her (punishment) growth. 

(Perhaps it was fated.) Ahsoka hates it.

“Hello?” Padme’s voice is strong and sweet as it has ever been. Confident even when she is hesitant.

_ Ahsoka is fifteen, very new to her Apprenticeship and very new to war. She is being dragged along by her somewhat guff Master to meet with a Senator. He seems to sidestep all her questions about why the Order answers to the Senate at all, and refuses to tell her more about this Senator than that she is a good person working in the Republic's best interests. For all her weedling to get out of this he had brought her along, and for all that he’s brought her Anakin seems annoyed that she’s here. So it’s no wonder that when they reach Senator Amidala’s office that he has her wait outside. It’s also no wonder that she thinks it’s unfair. Why make her come if he didn’t actually intend for her to go? It’s like a rigged test, she’s going to lose either way she chooses! _

_ He’s only been gone for ten minutes before the door opens again, not for her Master but for Senator Amidala. Her emotions are twisting between angry and worried and hopeful, and Ahsoka has to admit she is dazzled by the fancy dress and the depth of her in the force. _

_ “Hello? Padawan Ahsoka Tano? I apologize for Master Skywalker’s behavior, and for not asking after you sooner. Please, come in.” Padme waves into her office with a smile. Speaking easily as if she could actually make a Jedi’s excuses, and sending warmth all over Ahsoka for having even known she existed. _

_ Ahsoka smiles back at her, after all, anyone willing to slam dunk Skyguy is pretty good in her books. “That’s ok, thank you for checking on me.” _

_ She still goes inside and smirks at her Master, who both looks cowed and like he’s glowering.  _

“...Ahsoka?” Padme’s voice is a harsh whisper.

This is too much. She jerks to her feet, lurching as if to run. She can’t do this. She can’t, she can’t, she can’t.

There is something brushing along her mind in the Force, something hard as steel and soft as feathers. That presence breaks her from her own shackles and Ahsoka turns slowly following that thread back. There were no other Force sensitives here. She was...Padme is?

Padme stands within arms reach, one hand hanging in the air as if to touch her, tears in her eyes. The fingers on her outstretched hand curl in momentarily and with a determined nod, Padme takes the last few steps to wrap Ahsoka into a fierce hug.

Ahsoka freezes. It feels like anything she does could hurt her, could make Padme just disappear again. Padme the one who always asked after her, who hugs her without care or reservation. It takes time for Ahsoka to lift her arms and hold her back. She’s so small, so thin and wiry. It shocking on its own. Ahsoka remembers her as short and slight, but now, now she feels so delicate even as her arms nearly crush Ahsoka. Not frail, not Padme.

Padme’s voice is thick and heavy, “Thank you, thank you for making sure that Anakin wasn’t alone. I’m so sorry I didn’t find you.”


	48. Additional- Vader and Ahsoka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s hard to explain. Something she isn’t allowed to vocalize. Something she isn’t supposed to think or to feel. The way that she misses him, aches for his presence and longs for his advice. There was something solid and steady about Vader’s icy burn, a steady sandstorm pelting her until flesh was stripped from bone. Firm, insightful, and powerful. 
> 
> Now, she misses him.

She dreams of Vader sometimes. Not the times he hurt her or betrayed her at the Emperor’s demands, but of the times that they were actually together. When they were just...them.

Vader’s smile is always dangerous, drawing her in easily even knowing that a trap could be hidden anywhere she steps. It’s sharp at the corners and causes his eyes to glow a deep orange and red. His dimples are still there, but no longer as pronounced or boyish under the scars and the jagged pattern of hair on his cheeks. His eyes crinkle at the corners but his forehead is smooth in a way it never used to be. She can still picture him, with his patchy long hair falling to frame his face. A smile like a knife. Dangerous and achingly familiar.

Ahsoka knows that he didn’t smile often at her, but in her dreams he smiles more. More of Anakin remains in her dreams. Anakin didn’t trust her but he did believe in her. She misses that sometimes.

Vader trusted her completely. He trusted her with secrets and true power, he trusted her to do what was needed and to accept any punishment that were warranted. He didn’t believe she could be more or better, but he did trust her to get the tasks done that he assigned her.

It’s hard to explain. Something she isn’t allowed to vocalize. Something she isn’t supposed to think or to feel. The way that she misses him, aches for his presence and longs for his advice. There was something solid and steady about Vader’s icy burn, a steady sandstorm pelting her until flesh was stripped from bone. Firm, insightful, and powerful. She used to loath the way being near him felt safe, then she hated the way it made her feel like a child.

Now, she misses him. So she see him in dreams.

Vader smiles at her, the suit only half on after a full day. He could take parts of it off after a full fifteen hours in it, his ruined body just capable enough to have a few hours out of it for the time put in. He smiles, his helmet and cape on the table. The heavy protective layer around his chest removed and folded neatly. Like this she can see more of his implants, the chest plate that’s imbedded directly into his skin blinking lazily. His chest does not expand and contract, his lungs mostly gone. Vader is setting up his tools to maintain his arms and jerks his chin towards the small kitchen area. He can’t eat much real food, and nothing solid, but he can still drink tea. It’s an image the Empire worked to hide, their mighty black knight reduced back to a man who might enjoy a cup of tea. A pot is made and carried out from muscle memory alone as she steals glances at him out of the corner of her eye.

Vader always sits at the corner of the table, one knee on either side, as if he couldn’t choose which side he wanted to sit at. His left arm is on the table, the glove off and the wires exposed.

In her dreams Vader does not speak like Anakin might have. Anakin who was always so quick to tell her how proud he was of her.

Vader instead looks at her, with warm eyes and a flinty smile. “That was brave and foolish.”

“It was necessary.” She whispers it. Ahsoka believes it, but when faced with Vader her faith is always shaken.

“No,” he says it firmly, already working on his exposed arm. “It was selfish.”

“In part,” she admits, “but it was also necessary.”

The tray clicks as she puts it down within his reach. Ahsoka used to kneel on whichever side he worked on, it allowed her to help him. If he let her help at all. This time she sits across from him, one leg to either side of the corner at eye level with him now.

“Would you like me to stay?” Ahsoka asks, elbows pressing into her knees.

Vader pauses, frowning at his work before answering. “If that is what you wish.”

Ahsoka stays seated and faintly, Vader smiles. It’s acceptance. It’s understanding. It’s forgiveness. His approval of the path she’s chosen.

It’s hard when she wakes to really explain what has made her softer in sleep.


	50. Additional- Ahsoka and Herself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It would be nice, she thinks, if the dead girl would just STAY dead.

Ahsoka wants to scream. To claw out her own tongue and eyes. She wants to spit blood and hiss. But there is no threat, all that hatred simply sinking deep into her soul like a heavy stone.

Ahsoka Tano died. She died young, alone, and deathly afraid. She died every inch the idiot she’d been in life, and she didn’t even have the fucking decency to take her name with her.

She was never given a true name when she was reborn in the inky black pits of Imperial City. She was ripped from the darkness and forced to run on her own. The Grand Inquisitor is a title for her, but it is  **his** name alone. She is technically the First Sister but she’s never heard anyone actually call her that. The Emperor calls her The Apprentice sometimes, a name she would have taken if not for the way it spilled from his lips. Like oil and tar. He knows it’s the one name she would have wanted so he took it from her. Her own Master calls her Apprentice or Inquisitor.

She has no name so she is trapped wearing the skin of a dead girl, pulled too tight and thin. The name Ahsoka pulls at her, tears at her, has nothing to do with her!

When they-if they had succeeded in overthrowing the Emperor, Ahsoka knows that Vader would have given her a name. She wonders what it would have been, what it would feel like to have her own true name again.

But she was never true Sith. He never named her.

Ahsoka Tano pulls in all the wrong places and reopening wounds that should have healed. It’s all she has left.

So she keeps it.


	51. Additional- Barriss and Ahsoka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Will you at least be on coms?” Ahsoka is pleading and it hurts.
> 
> What are we? Barriss makes herself look back up. What are we? “For the first few rotations, then I’ll be com silent.”
> 
> Ahsoka has slumped over, her giant frame folding in on itself as she slides down the wall to sit on the floor. “Oh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because, frankly, the last chapter was a little short compared to the others. Here's another short one to make up the difference?

“You’re leaving.”

Barriss paused in her packing, looking up towards where Ahsoka was casually leaning against the wall. It immediately made the hairs stand on the back of her neck. Ahsoka was incapable of casually doing anything anymore. Every single emotion displayed was one she’d chosen to display. The fact that her gaze was locked on the floor and her shoulders were relaxed only made Barriss more concerned. As she tried to figure out what exactly she was supposed to say Ahsoka looked up again, her features tight and eyes slightly wild.

“You’re leaving.” Ahsoka repeated, softer this time. 

Barriss felt her heart break at the sight. “Yes, but not forever.”

Ahsoka’s eyes had long since reverted from their sickly sith gold, but the near lattice work of it remained just below the blue. Sea green now. Burned out. Right now they were swallowed in black as her pupils dilated. Her hands had locked into rigid fists around her arms. Ahsoka constantly sallow skin paling further. It was fitting in a way, in the lighting of the Ghost Ahsoka had always managed to look spectral.

“For how long?”

Barriss wanted to march over and wrap the younger woman in a hug, she wanted to promise that she’d be back soon, that everything was going to be alright. She wanted nothing more than to refuse Mon’s order and instead run away with Ahsoka. To go somewhere calm and quiet. Somewhere peaceful where they could heal and just be. Just be. But they can’t, the Rebellion needs them both and right now they need them in two different places. It was a gift of sorts, to have nearly two whole years together. It had been granted from prudence and caution. It had still been a gift. It was over now.

Instead of touching her and making things worse, Barriss wrapped her arms around her middle. “A while. I don’t know exactly how long. A few months at least.”

The pause drew out and Barriss could hear the unasked question.  _ Why? _ She bit her lower lip, unnerved and unable to keep Ahsoka’s unwavering gaze. There was nothing to say to that, duty was something they both understood. The only difference between them now and when they’d been children fighting for the Republic, was that their roles had been reversed. Barriss was confident in their efforts, believed in the Rebellion’s cause. Ahsoka was haunted by darkness, afraid of what could pass. Furious over every mistake. Terrified of losing those she cared for most. Despite what anyone else may think Barriss knows that Ahsoka does care. Deeply.

“Will you at least be on coms?” Ahsoka is pleading and it hurts.

_ What are we?  _ Barriss makes herself look back up.  _ What are we? _ “For the first few rotations, then I’ll be com silent.”

Ahsoka has slumped over, her giant frame folding in on itself as she slides down the wall to sit on the floor. “Oh.”

Barriss only hesitates for a moment before sitting next to her, close enough that Ahsoka can lean into her if she wants. It takes a colossal effort, the force fluctuating around them as Ahsoka twitches and suddenly grabs her hand in a vice grip. It’s startling and it hurts enough that Barriss finds herself grabbing at Ahsoka’s hand. For a moment she fears that grip will only tighten further, instead it goes limp and Barriss finds herself cradling Ahsoka’s limp hand. For all that they’ve managed to get her healthier, get more weight on her, Ahsoka’s hands have remained thin and spindly. The strength in them is always shocking. When she’s in better control of herself, their gentleness can be shocking as well.

“I will do everything I can to come back.” Barriss whispers, voice rough as she fights her own emotional reactions. “Everything.”

There’s so many things she wants to say, to ask, to declare. Barriss finds that each one dies on her tongue, each time her heart bleeds. She doesn’t want to leave.  _ Who are you to me? _ She doesn’t know anymore. She doesn’t know but she wants to find out.

“I will hold you to that.”

It’s the best they can do. It’s the most they can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all both need therapists and some actual open lines of communication, cuz this is not the image of a healthy relationship ladies.


End file.
